


Not With Haste

by RegalFirebird



Series: The Fire in My Blood [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sexual Roleplay, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegalFirebird/pseuds/RegalFirebird
Summary: Kieran knows he is well and truly smitten with Arthur Morgan. What he doesn't know is how close Arthur is to giving him a chance.





	1. Chapter 1

The house smelled of firewood, the hearth burning low as it drew closer to the dead of night. Kieran hesitated at the foot of the stairs, listening to the creak of Arthur’s footsteps upstairs, waiting for him to come back down so they could get out of here. Kieran knew he was only on this job because Arthur had vouched for him and that Dutch didn’t trust him running with anyone else if Arthur wasn’t there to keep an eye on him. Kieran was grateful. He'd been a prisoner at the Van der Linde camp since Arthur had dragged him to Colter that freezing night, even after the gang had let him out of his chains weeks later. Kieran noted the glances, the shielded body language, the shortness in peoples’ tones, if they talked to him at all. He felt even more of a black sheep then when he'd been tied to a tree.

The floorboards groaned upstairs as Arthur walked slowly across the room, leading Kieran’s thoughts back to the present. He felt his pockets for the loot he was carrying for what must have been the fiftieth time. He'd cleaned out this level of its valuables, including the jewelry on the mantle and the money clip hidden under the empty bed in the corner. Kieran turned at the sound of Arthur creeping down the stairs. Kieran’s heart jumped when Arthur's eyes meet his. Arthur nodded and led the way out of the house. Kieran climbed out the window after him as quietly as he could. 

Kieran trailed Arthur through the wet grass towards the horses. Once they'd cleared the circle of light cast by the house, Arthur stood and stretched. Kieran followed suit, sighing at the relief he felt in his knees and back after being bent over for so long. Arthur pulled down his bandana and let out a long breath, which steamed in the chill air. “Let’s go.” He said.

“Right.” Kieran jumped up on his roan stallion and patted the horse’s neck. It snorted softly. Arthur hauled himself into the saddle, sighing with exertion. Arthur took the reins and wheeled the horse around; Kieran urged his horse to follow. They headed back over the hills towards the cover of the forest; the air under the trees was even colder. Kieran shivered. They rode in silence for several minutes, listening to the night noises and the soft trod of their horses. Kieran glanced at Arthur, riding ahead of him, swaying with the motion of his horse. He'd been stiff tonight, Kieran could tell, and had been favoring his left ankle, recently healed after an incident involving Uncle and a wagon. The three weeks off his feet – ordered by a doctor and enforced by Dutch – had been miserable for Arthur. Kieran could hardly blame him for jumping at the first opportunity to head out and earn his keep again. 

“How’s that ankle treatin’ you?” Kieran ventured. 

“’Sfine.” Came the tired reply. “Nothin’ to get excited over.” 

Kieran decided not to press him. Arthur had many years yet in his prime and was in excellent health; it wouldn’t do to needlessly worry over him. But Kieran found himself unable to keep his mind off Arthur, day or night. In spite of the hostility Arthur had shown him at first – which Kieran understood, since he'd been the enemy – Arthur had softened and eventually promoted Kieran to indifference. After that, they'd become something of acquaintances, Kieran even growing bold enough to invite Arthur fishing one time. Kieran smiled, treasuring the memory. Kieran looked again to Arthur’s dark shape in the shadows. He knew it was impossible, this want he felt. But Kieran also didn’t want to let go of the affection he had for Arthur. 

“How’s about here?” Arthur turned off the trail and headed for a small clearing marked by a fallen tree and sparse undergrowth. Kieran steered his horse after him. Kieran hopped down from his roan, smiling when the animal nosed his jacket, searching for treats. Kieran spoke praises to the horse and offered a handful of granola, which was promptly but gently eaten. Kieran stroked the horse’s muzzle. After their mounts had been unsaddled and hitched, and their tents pitched and a fire going, Kieran sat next to Arthur at what he hoped was an acceptable distance. Disregarding the cold, Arthur had taken off his boot and was absently working his ankle with a rough massaging motion. He held a cigarette in his other hand, the brim of his hat throwing a shadow over his eyes. 

“Let’s see what you got, O’Driscoll.” Kieran half-smiled at the jab and went for his pockets, drawing out the spoils of their endeavor. He laid the stolen goods on the ground, steel and gold glinting in the firelight. 

“And,” Kieran dug in his bag and pulled out a bottle of brandy with a flourish. “I got this.” Arthur chuckled and patted him on the back. 

“Good find.” Arthur took a swig from the bottle. Kieran was grateful the fire’s glow hid his blush at the compliment. Arthur took another long pull of the brandy. 

“Am I gonna have to cut you off? Lenny says you a poor drunk.” Kieran teased. Arthur gave him a sour look and put the bottle down. 

“You heard about that?” Kieran shrugged and took a drink. 

“Not much. Just what Lenny told me.” He lied. In reality, Kieran had overheard part of the story Lenny told Bill, John, and Javier. He'd wanted to join them for a drink and a good tale but a feeling in the pit of his stomach held him back. A fear of rejection, perhaps. 

Arthur snorted. “Lenny likes to embellish. I’m sure that story gets more wild every time he tells it.” Kieran laughed nervously. Arthur drank deeply from the brandy and ran his fingers over his injured ankle. The horses snuffed in the grass nearby. Arthur passed the bottle back to Kieran and took off his hat. Kieran took the chance to study Arthur’s face, observing the lines under his eyes and strong cheekbones. Kieran looked away before the glance could be considered rude. Arthur laid back on his elbow and continued smoking, leaving a semi-comfortable silence to fall between them. Kieran was pleased Arthur felt he could relax with a former member of an enemy gang. Kieran reflected again on his appreciation that Arthur had begun to treat him more as a friend than a stranger. 

Kieran started as Arthur swung his arm over to offer him a cigarette. “Thanks.” Kieran said. After lighting the cigarette, Kieran tried a draw of the pungent tobacco. He ended up coughing as some of the smoke caught in his throat. Arthur eyed him with a raised brow. 

“Not much of a smoker?” Kieran shook his head, still coughing. Arthur laughed easily and blew smoke from his mouth. 

“It’s not somethin’ I had a lot of practice with.” Kieran defended, although he didn’t get the impression Arthur was laughing at his expense. 

“Nobody teach you how to smoke?” Arthur was incredulous. Kieran, unsure of what to say, said nothing. Arthur sat up, shaking his head. 

“First of all, you ain’t holdin’ it right. Here.” Arthur took the cigarette from Kieran’s hand and demonstrated before passing it back. Kieran held the cigarette as he’d seen Arthur do, noting how much more natural it felt. Arthur then taught him how to draw and savor the smoke before releasing it in a way that wouldn’t make you gag. Kieran’s heart beat harder at Arthur’s nearness. Kieran felt the need to impress him by performing perfectly what Arthur was teaching him and did his utmost to pay attention between being distracted. Before long, Kieran was able to draw and release well enough to earn a half-smile that made his chest ache. “That’s how you do it,” Arthur congratulated.

“Thanks, Arthur.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Arthur sounded tired as he leaned back again. Kieran committed to memory what he had learned, attaching special fondness to the knowledge, as Arthur had been the one to teach him how to smoke proper. Arthur. The night was quiet and full of stars, and Kieran found himself deeply torn between elation and despair at being so close to him. There was nothing he could name that he wanted more than to turn and confess his feelings, yet everything he knew told him it would be a fool thing to do. 

“I’ve heard that sigh before.” Arthur said, sounding sympathetic and amused. Surprised, Kieran turned to look at him. He hadn’t been aware he'd sighed. 

“W-What do you mean?” Arthur gave him a knowing look. Kieran’s heart leapt painfully. 

“You’re in love.” It was stated as an observation, not an accusation. Kieran realized Arthur was oblivious to the object of Kieran’s affection; otherwise, Arthur never would have brought it up. Kieran avoided Arthur’s eyes.

“Maybe I am.” He took a draw from his cigarette. Arthur shook his head, smiling. 

“You definitely are.” After a beat, Arthur said, “Anyone I know?” 

Kieran looked suspiciously at Arthur. “Why’re you askin’?” 

Arthur shrugged. “Is it a crime to ask a friend questions?” Kieran realized he was coming off as defensive. 

“Sorry. I was just… surprised you noticed.” Kieran picked at the seam of his pants, unsure of how to sate Arthur’s curiosity without outing himself. “It is someone we both know.” He said slowly. 

“Is it Tilly?” 

“No.” 

“Karen?” Kieran shook his head. “Hmm…” Kieran had the sinking feeling he wasn’t escaping this conversation without giving something up. 

“Sadie?” Kieran again shook his head no. Arthur hummed in amusement. “She’s probably too crazy for you.” Kieran made a noncommittal noise and reached for the brandy. He glanced at Arthur, who was staring hard at the fire, doubtlessly trying to pin down the right person. 

“It’s not Javier, is it?” Kieran choked and spilled brandy on himself. Arthur laughed while Kieran wiped brandy off his face. 

“What?!” Kieran demanded once he had found his voice. Kieran waited anxiously for Arthur to stop laughing so he could answer him. Still giggling, Arthur found the bottle of brandy and shook it to see how much was left. Kieran tried again.

“Are you serious?” Arthur waved at him and brought the bottle to his lips. Kieran’s heart raced in his ears. 

“It don’t matter to me. As long as it’s not an animal, I couldn’t care less.” Kieran had no time to process this before Arthur turned to him, mild intoxication brightening his eyes. “Was I right?” 

Kieran stared at him for a moment before coming back to himself. “No.” 

“Damn it.” Arthur growled and drained the bottle. Kieran hesitated, then spoke. 

“You don’t care if I like men?” Kieran was aware that although the people he rubbed shoulders with weren’t religious, the morality of the day still dictated that homosexuals be shunned or shot, a code most people were happy to oblige. 

Arthur shook his head. “Kieran, you be with whoever you wanna be with.” Kieran considered this statement with wonder. Arthur sighed and laid down on his back, closing his eyes. Kieran checked his pocket watch and realized it was almost two in the morning. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in.” He said. 

“Okay.” Kieran glanced at the empty brandy bottle. Arthur was probably going to feel that in the morning, having drunk most of the bottle. Kieran grabbed his bag and ducked inside his tent, trusting Arthur would take care of the fire. He took off his boots and jacket, considering what Arthur had said. They had never spoken of romantic pursuits before, and Arthur had been the one to mention, unprompted, that he was unconcerned with Kieran’s sexuality. That was a lot of ground to cover in one night. _You be with whoever you wanna be with._

Kieran smiled and pulled the blankets over him. For Arthur to accept him as he was without question was more than he could have hoped for. It was a cold night and Kieran couldn’t stop thoughts of Arthur keeping him warm from entering his mind. Sleep was elusive in his excited state. He tossed around in his bedroll for some time before his weariness overtook him. For the first time, Kieran felt the knot of worry he carried loosen, and he looked forward to the coming day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos on my work, and a very special thank you to those who commented. Your kind words are more motivating than anything else! 
> 
> Also, fear not, sexiness is coming in the next chapter.

A week after, Kieran was nearly ready to make his confession but was not without doubt. Aside from his skittish tendencies, he was also unsure if Arthur would be disposed to receive his affections. He knew Arthur had been involved with a woman some years ago, Mary something-or-other, and that Arthur had seen her recently. But Kieran had also gathered from whispers around camp that their reunion ended bitterly. So Kieran bided his time, giving Arthur space to recover from whatever'd happened between him and Mary. He gave special attention to the gang’s horses during those quiet days, bringing them sweet grass from beyond their normal grazing spaces and brushing hardened dirt from their coats. 

Kieran felt comfortable and understood among horses. They were incredibly strong, hardy, and loyal animals, and if one spent any well-meaning time among them, their personalities gave them each an endearing distinction. Old Boy, John’s horse, was easygoing and often trotted up to Kieran when he saw him coming, ears perked forward in anticipation of Kieran’s gentle treatment. Others, like Dutch’s horse The Count, were naturally fiery and standoffish and occasionally nipped at him. Over time, Kieran had learned their traits and quirks and taken them all to heart. He felt the herd had done the same for him. 

Kieran patted Boaz’s shoulder as the horses gathered to the spot where Kieran had piled their morning meal of hay and several apples. A chill mist was over the swamp and fields of Shady Belle but Kieran had no doubt it would be burned away when the sun rose fully. His roan came alongside him and nickered before dipping its head to eat. Kieran walked back towards the plantation house. It was just before six thirty and most of the gang was still asleep. He saw Charles walking the perimeter and they exchanged a nod. Kieran knelt by the smoldering fire near Pearson’s wagon and worked to rekindle it, adding tinder and then coaxing a newborn flame to catch the arranged logs and branches. 

Encouraged by Arthur’s insistence that Kieran would face no judgement from him, Kieran had been building the courage to tell him how he felt. He'd considered a few ways of broaching the subject and settled on asking Arthur to join him for a ride. Kieran figured them being alone again would give him the nerve to face his feelings and Arthur at the same time. He hoped he might run into Arthur this morning to ask him if he felt up to a ride before the day turned hot. Arthur had been away for six days, running with Hosea on one of his schemes, and had returned late last night. Kieran was fearful Arthur would rise later than normal or would decline Kieran’s offer due to having been on horseback for almost a week; there was a lot that could go wrong. Kieran wasn’t sure if his courage would hold if Arthur turned him down. Maybe he should wait for better timing. 

“Morning.” Mary-Beth called as she walked by. 

“Hi.” Kieran greeted before turning back to the small fire. He was pleased to see the wood catching nicely. 

“Kieran, good morning.” Pearson half-yawned, walking up from behind. “Up early, I see.” 

“Hi, sir.” Kieran said pleasantly. Pearson had been decent to him, and Kieran wanted to ensure he gave the cook no negative impressions. 

“Could you give me a hand with this deer? Arthur brought it by just a bit ago.” Kieran trailed Pearson to where a buck was hanging by its hind legs from the skinning rack. Judging by the state of the carcass, the kill was fresh. 

“Arthur came by?” Kieran kept his tone casual, grabbing a blood-stained pail used for holding discarded organs while the animal was being dressed. 

“He did. I think he set off again already.” Pearson took his knife and started gutting the buck. Kieran’s heart sank. He looked to the horses, scanning for the black coat of Arthur’s mare. He didn’t see it. Kieran gave his attention back to the task at hand, disappointment stabbing at him. He hadn’t counted on Arthur getting out of camp so soon, or Kieran would have forced himself to get up even earlier. Kieran guessed Arthur wanted to get a jump on hunting since he'd been away and the group greatly relied on him for food. While Kieran admired Arthur’s work ethic, he looked less favorably on his punctuality, which had cost Kieran a chance to make his feelings known. 

Pearson and Kieran chatted while they dressed the buck, the conversation eventually turning into Pearson telling a story from when he was in the Navy. Kieran was inclined to believe less than half of what Pearson said but he enjoyed the company and meaningful work. The day that had started cool turned sweltering as the sun rose. The air was thick with humidity, making both people and horses irritable and sluggish. After working with Pearson until noon, Kieran headed to the creek to wash off the blood and stink of dead animal. He lingered near the stream, finding that the cool air cleared his mind and stilled his restlessness. 

It was unfortunate he'd missed Arthur this morning, but it wasn’t a disaster. He knew what he wanted to say and was sure Arthur would at least hear him out. Kieran decided he'd seek out Arthur tonight if he could, if it seemed Arthur wasn’t too worn out. Keeping his feelings to himself was wearing on Kieran. It was like keeping back a river with his bare hands; at times, its force was suffocating. Kieran needed to make them known, no matter how nervous the thought of coming clean to Arthur made him. Knowing Arthur was a tolerant, fair-minded man gave him the confidence he needed. It would be enough. 

***

The mood around the main campfire was cheerful, the gang mingling pleasantly over dinner, tempers much improved now that the temperature had dropped. Jack sat by his mother while she conversed with a drunken Uncle, Abigail trying valiantly to hold up both ends of the conversation. Sadie, Bill, and Charles were sat together, talking and smoking. Javier had retrieved his beloved guitar and was strumming an aimless tune. Arthur was there, talking with Hosea at the table most notably occupied during poker games. Kieran judged from the animated gestures and laughter that Arthur was in a fine mood. From the snatches of conversation Kieran picked up, it sounded like they were reminiscing about a job they'd done years ago that was brought to mind by their recent work. 

Kieran tried to be comforted by the voices and music and lightheartedness despite how out of place he felt among it. Most of this gang had been together for years and even those who'd joined more recently seemed to have found the companions and roles they were meant for. Nights where the closeness of the gang was most visible were the nights Kieran felt a thousand miles away. Most moved around and past him without a thought and it wounded him. Javier played the first chords of “Juanita”, a crowd favorite, calling most of the gang to gather ‘round for the song. Kieran found he wasn’t in the mood and quietly finished his meal as Javier started to sing. 

He got up to set his bowl in the wash pile and noticed Arthur had also left, spotting him meandering towards the house. Kieran hung back, watching Arthur walk through the front doors, before compelling himself to follow. Kieran didn’t bother to check if anyone noticed his absence; he was sure no one had. The sounds of singing and crickets were muted by the old walls as Kieran stepped inside. He stopped and listened to Arthur’s heavy steps as he made his way to his room on the second floor. He heard the door close and tried to make out any sounds that would tell him if others were inside as well. After several moments of waiting, he was met only with silence. They were alone. 

Kieran’s heart beat against his ribs as he climbed the stairs, gripping the railing with a hand he realized was slick with sweat. He wiped his hands on his pants and continued. Every creak of the floorboards sounded unnaturally loud as he got closer to Arthur’s door. Kieran took deep breaths to try and calm himself, feeling faint and on edge and foolish all at once. This wasn’t how he'd pictured telling Arthur he was fond of him. Anxiety turned his stomach; he swallowed hard to keep himself from being sick. Kieran knew if he backed down now, he may as well admit he was an unworthy coward. Taking a few more calming breaths to settle his stomach, Kieran stepped up to the door separating him from the man he most admired. 

There was no way Arthur hadn’t heard Kieran approach - Kieran had the obnoxiously noisy house to thank for that - so Kieran didn't have the luxury of steeling himself further before he raised his hand and knocked. 

“Come in,” Arthur called. Kieran turned the knob with a slightly trembling hand and entered. Arthur was sitting on the edge of his bed and hadn’t looked up from his journal. Kieran could see the sketching of a herd of horses forming on the pages. 

“That’s lovely.” Kieran took another step into the room. “Horses?” Arthur hummed, still sketching. 

“Saw a herd the other day coming back with Hosea.” Arthur set the journal aside and favored Kieran with a weary smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Arthur’s voice was light, but the question struck Kieran dumb. He stiffened, berating himself for freezing. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“Is somethin’ wrong?” 

“No, no.” Kieran tried not to stammer. This was the moment. There was no going back. “I.. have something I wanna say.” 

Kieran willed himself to speak, the worried look on Arthur’s face spurring him on. “You remember... You remember you told me I should be with who I wanted to be with. I've been thinkin’... I don’t wanna hide it from you no more. If you’d have me, I wanna be with you.” 

A terrible silence followed. Arthur’s lips parted in what Kieran guessed was surprise. Neither moved as the seconds crawled past. Kieran’s hopes died when Arthur failed to say anything. Intense disappointment flooded him and he could not recall a time he felt more embarrassed. Kieran lowered his eyes, then snapped them back to Arthur. He was laughing? Kieran watched in confusion as Arthur shook his head, chuckling. When Arthur lifted his eyes back to Kieran, they were warm. Heat rushed to Kieran’s face. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not laughin’ atcha.” Arthur stood up and approached him. Kieran’s heart was pounding, unsure where this was going. Kieran started to step back but Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. When Arthur didn’t remove his hand, Kieran dared to meet his eyes. They were soft and Arthur smiled almost shyly. Kieran felt the nearness of Arthur acutely. His breath hitched when Arthur moved closer, Kieran unwilling and unable to hide his attraction any longer. Arthur’s blue eyes searched his. Arthur ran his hand from Kieran’s shoulder to his elbow, pulling him gently forward. 

Arthur dipped his head, so close Kieran could feel his breath on his cheek. “Can I?” Arthur asked in a low voice, and that was all Kieran needed. Kieran kissed him, tentatively. Arthur breathed in and kissed back, lips tasting of tobacco. Kieran put his arms around him and marveled when Arthur pulled him into his chest without hesitation. Arthur kissed him searchingly. Kieran’s heart soared with the joy of being wanted. He drew his hands down Arthur’s sides and Arthur let his tongue wander along the bottom of Kieran’s top lip. Kieran pulled back and gazed unguarded at Arthur for the first time. Arthur sighed contentedly and rested his forehead on Kieran’s. Kieran was overwhelmed with relief, almost shaking with it. 

“Arthur.” Kieran breathed. 

“Yes?” He felt the word rumble in Arthur’s chest. Kieran wondered if he would ever grow used to that. 

There were no words for what Kieran wanted Arthur to understand, so he simply held him tighter. Arthur responded in kind, pressing a kiss to Kieran’s temple. Kieran let himself drown in this feeling, of affection returned and loneliness thwarted. He belonged to Arthur now, and he supposed that also meant Arthur belonged to him. Kieran pressed his face into Arthur’s neck, feeling, at last, home.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun had been rising later at a gradual pace over the past few weeks, one of the many signs that fall was on its way. The cool of the morning lingered longer and was quicker to return in the evening, causing the horses to huddle together for warmth when the sun went down. The plants and trees around Shady Belle were starting to lose their sharp colors and fade to their pre-winter hues. Kieran was grateful to be around to see the change of seasons, reflecting grimly on his many brushes with death in the past two months. It was largely thanks to Arthur he'd survived this long after making an enemy of the O’Driscolls. 

Kieran hauled bales of hay to the horses’ feeding spot. While he worked, his mind wandered. It had been beyond his hopes to catch the eye of a man like Arthur, but there was no mistaking the way Arthur had kissed him last night. The memory seemed unbelievable. If the taste of his lips and the way Arthur had held him weren't burned so vividly into Kieran’s mind he would've sworn he'd dreamed up their encounter. It didn’t seem real. 

The horses started to come for their breakfast, nickering to each other and taking him from his thoughts. Old Boy walked up to him, whickering. Kieran smiled. “Hi, sweet boy.” The big horse flicked its ears while he patted its neck. He stroked the horse’s side while the remainder of the herd gathered, feeling pleased that the horses were comfortable having him among them. It had taken time, of course, for them not to react to him as a stranger, but Kieran never doubted he'd eventually win them over. 

He looked back toward the plantation house, partially blocked by Old Boy’s high back. Unlike animals, who judged based on trust alone, people were far harder to please. Old Boy moved off and went to join the herd at the feeding pile, giving Kieran full view of the house grounds. His heart jolted when he saw Arthur having a morning smoke, leaning against a pillar on the front porch. The sight of him brought last night sharply to Kieran’s mind, Arthur’s tongue against his lips, how solid Arthur felt as the kiss moved them against each other. Kieran shook himself, mortified at the possibility of anyone seeing the effect the memories were having on him. He drew in a shaky breath. Kieran stayed among the horses for a bit longer to let the heat in his pants die down. 

***

Last night… _damn_. Arthur drew on his cigarette thoughtfully. If he’d known Kieran had been pining after _him_ , he'd have made himself an easier target and stuck around instead of going off with Hosea. He watched Kieran furtively from under the brim of his hat, gathering breakfast for the herd. In all Arthur’s years, he’d never known someone who had such talent with horses. The herd was relaxed, utterly unconcerned with his presence. Some of the animals even came up to Kieran for a scratch or pat. Arthur had been around horses long enough to know that the level of mutual respect he was witnessing between Kieran and the gang’s herd did not come lightly. 

While Arthur had at first viewed Kieran as a pathetic individual, his perspective of him begrudgingly changed after Kieran saved his life at Six Point Cabin. Arthur knew after that happened there was a bolder side to Kieran; the ease with which he moved among the horses spoke of it as well. Horses were quick to take advantage of fearful people and Arthur saw no evidence of the horses bullying Kieran. Arthur'd noticed Kieran’s bond with the horses at Clemens Point as well. He admired it then, too. 

If Arthur was honest, it was embarrassing how often he caught himself following Kieran with his eyes. After Arthur took notice of Kieran’s ability to stand up for himself, Arthur had wanted to get to know him. Gradually, and after he and Kieran’s fishing venture, that interest evolved into something Arthur was at first hesitant to address. Arthur didn’t look down on men who loved men, or women who loved women, for that matter, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he could feel romantic affection for a man. Initially, Arthur was uncertain if what he was feeling was real, given his age and previous, extensive history with women. But he came to terms that there was no mistaking the warmth he felt when he watched Kieran, or how his heart skipped when Kieran smiled. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kieran shake himself. Even from this distance, Arthur had seen the way Kieran had been staring. Arthur couldn’t hold back a grin. Life continued to surprise him. 

***

“Coffee?” Arthur offered a cup to Kieran as he took a seat by him on one of the crates circling the gang’s common area. 

“Thanks.” Kieran sipped from the steaming mug. There were a few others milling around the grounds at this hour, with Arthur and Kieran the only two seated around the spent campfire. Arthur swirled his drink before speaking. 

“Where’d you get so good with horses?” 

“Spent a lot of time around ‘em when I was young, learned from my pa. They’re real nice and I found I was good at gettin’ ‘em to like me.” 

Arthur chuckled. “You ain’t kiddin’. I never seen The Count warm up to anybody but Dutch before.” 

Arthur stole a glance, seeing Kieran smile at the compliment. Arthur’s heart fluttered. He took a drink to mask his reaction, shifting his gaze to the treeline out beyond the fields. They sat without speaking for a time. Arthur let himself enjoy being near Kieran while they had their coffee, trying to piece together how to ask Kieran what had been on his mind since waking. Arthur was not by nature timid, but he truly liked Kieran and didn’t want to scare him off. Was it too soon to ask? It hadn’t even been a day since they discovered their affection was mutual. But tomorrow wasn't guaranteed, especially with their lifestyle. Arthur knew that all too well. Arthur, not by nature patient either, decided to try. 

“Got any plans for the day?” He set his mug down on the crate, not trusting his hands not to shake. 

“Mhm. I’ll be repairin’ wagons with Bill and Lenny, and Ms. Grimshaw wanted me to find some herbs to season the stew with.” Arthur could tell Kieran was about to say more. He didn’t wait for him to finish. 

“Can I see you tonight?” Arthur could tell the question caught him off guard. His pulse quickened as he waited for the surprise on Kieran’s face to pass into his true reaction. When it did, Arthur was relieved to see Kieran blush and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in the beginnings of a smile. Kieran met his eyes with a look that gave Arthur an answer before he put it to words. 

“Y-yeah.” Kieran cleared his throat. “‘Course.” 

“Eleven?” 

“Sure.” Arthur tore his gaze away from Kieran and focused on the ground for a moment. He still wasn’t sure if this was too soon, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it. He stood, thought about saying something, then decided against it. He nodded shortly in Kieran’s direction and turned and strode off. _Damn fool,_ he chastised. _Actin’ like a damn fool._ Arthur’s chest was tight with anticipation for what was to come. He hoped Kieran wanted this as much as he did. 

***

Given that the nights were colder now, Kieran and the others that slept outside had taken to turning down their tent flaps when they slept. Kieran retired to his tent shortly after ten thirty. He'd hardly been able to keep his mind anywhere else all day. Arthur’s forwardness had surprised him at first, but unanticipated didn’t mean unwelcome. Kieran saw Arthur propositioning him as a sign of interest, and they were adults, free to take their relationship at whatever pace suited them. 

Kieran didn’t have many possessions and kept his living space tidy already, so all he did to prepare was unroll his bearskin blanket, which he'd wanted to do regardless. Kieran forbade himself from looking at his pocket watch, knowing it would only unnerve him. He guessed it was almost eleven, considering the lack of voices and movement outside. It was the time of night when people were either asleep or headed to sleep and also the changing of the guard. 

Tortuous minutes passed. Kieran took to cleaning his revolver to keep from fidgeting, listening with half an ear to the calling of nocturnal animals. He fought down his worry, trying to keep his thoughts from rushing to the conclusion that Arthur had stood him up. If Arthur did fail to show tonight, he reasoned, it would be for something important. Kieran knew well that life didn’t always go to plan. 

The last of the voices around the campfire had drifted away; it was now quiet enough for Kieran to hear the shuffling of the herd a hundred feet away. His heart caught in his throat when he heard footsteps. He waited, but they passed by his tent and continued on. Kieran sighed and laid on his back, staring at the shadows cast by his lantern across the canvas. Some minutes later he heard footsteps again. He laid still, listening. They approached and stopped about five feet away, then moved towards the tent entrance. Kieran sat up like a shot, his eyes fixed on the flaps. 

“Kieran?” Arthur’s voice. Kieran opened the tent for Arthur. 

“Hi,” He whispered back, heart thudding with sudden fierceness. Kieran did not have a large tent, and Arthur was a large man; together, they filled the space almost comically. Arthur removed his hat and sat opposite Kieran on the bearskin blanket, placing the hat on the trunk at his side. Kieran bit the inside of his lip as Arthur shed his jacket and boots as well, putting them off to the side as much as he could in the small space. Kieran felt compelled to apologize. “I’m sorry, it ain’t much…”

“Nothin’ to worry about.” Arthur reassured him. His eyes appeared dark green in the low light of the lantern. Kieran almost pulled his gaze away instinctively before remembering this was why Arthur was here. He held Arthur’s stare, wondering if Arthur wanted to make the first move. 

“Why don’t you come ‘ere?” Ice raced up Kieran’s spine at the dark pitch of Arthur’s words. Kieran moved towards Arthur and drew in a breath when Arthur’s hand found his hip. Arthur guided Kieran to straddle him. Kieran felt dizzy at the contact. Arthur put a hand on his cheek, his face shadowed, but from the look in his eyes there was no question what he wanted. He kissed Kieran, who immediately kissed back. Arthur kissed him slowly, easily; Kieran followed him blissfully. Kieran sank into the kiss, pushing down on Arthur’s chest with his. Arthur let himself be laid down. He breathed harshly when Kieran bit his lip, arching up with his hips and returning with a nip of his own. 

Kieran gasped at the feeling of Arthur’s body pressing into his. He deepened the kiss, skimming his tongue across Arthur’s lips. He ran his hands up Arthur’s chest, finding the collar of his shirt and started undoing his buttons. Judging by how Arthur was gripping his own shirt, Kieran knew he was headed in the right direction. Arthur broke the kiss and watched him as Kieran finished opening his shirt. Kieran’s heart hammered as he beheld Arthur’s broad, defined chest. Heat coiled in his groin. Kieran ran his fingers through Arthur’s dark chest hair and lightly drew his thumb over a nipple. Arthur groaned and closed his eyes. Before Kieran could continue, Arthur sat up, kissing Kieran’s neck while Kieran helped pull the shirt off him. Kieran gasped and held tightly to Arthur as Arthur continued to kiss his neck, moving up to the corner of his jaw. Arthur took Kieran’s earlobe between his teeth, drawing a helpless rush of breath from Kieran. 

“Need to slow down?” Arthur’s voice was right in his ear. 

“No, don’t.” Kieran insisted. He fumbled with his own shirt but was stilled by Arthur’s hand covering his. Arthur worked at the buttons, short beard rubbing against Kieran’s cheek, his breathing heavy and erotic. Kieran’s lust ignited when Arthur started pulling his belt off, hurrying to loose the clasps. In a rush of fabric and warm skin, Kieran was naked underneath Arthur. Kieran looked up at him; Arthur closed the distance between them for a hungry, impassioned kiss. Kieran felt along the muscles of Arthur’s back. Arthur’s tongue entered his mouth and Kieran moaned. Kieran somehow undid Arthur’s belt and slipped a hand down the front of his pants. Arthur hissed when Kieran’s fingers brushed his cock in the confined space. 

“I wanna touch you.” Kieran whispered. Arthur backed off, Kieran following him magnetically until their positions were reversed, chest to chest, face to face. Arthur’s eyes were dark with arousal, face and neck flushed with color. Kieran kissed his collarbone tenderly, drinking in the smell of sweat and leather. He was intoxicated with the heat between them. Kieran pulled the rest of Arthur’s clothes off and reached for the small bottle of oil he had left out for tonight. He stopped. “Actually…” He put a hand on Arthur’s thigh. “Can I… taste you?” 

Arthur nodded, chest rising and falling deeply. “Please.” Arthur laid his head back and Kieran took the base of Arthur’s cock in his hand. Arthur moaned as Kieran slipped the head of his cock inside his mouth. Kieran kept a hold on it as he moved his head, slicking the thick shaft with spit, starting slow. Kieran licked up and swirled his tongue, causing Arthur to growl. With his free hand, Kieran touched and stroked the velvet skin of Arthur's balls. Arthur jerked his hips, thrusting into Kieran’s mouth. Kieran continued his ministrations, starting to suck harder at his cock and drawing his tongue across the base of its head. 

Arthur’s thighs trembled as Kieran worked at him, the scent of his arousal driving Kieran wild. Kieran pulled off him to catch his breath and pumped Arthur with his hand, watching Arthur’s face. He looked debauched, sinfully handsome. Jealousy panged in Kieran’s chest to know that others had seen Arthur in this state before him. Kieran took Arthur’s cock in his mouth again, taking him deeply, tightening his lips. Arthur whined. Kieran pleasured him mercilessly, driven oddly by jealousy and adoration. He pulled off only when he absolutely needed to breathe, gasping along with Arthur, his own cock twitching at the state Arthur was in. 

Catching his breath, Arthur lifted his hand to cup Kieran’s cheek; Kieran pressed his face into Arthur’s warm hand. Arthur locked their eyes. “Fuck me, Kieran.” 

Kieran faltered. “Have y’ever been with a man before?” Arthur shook his head. “It can be… uncomfortable, the first time.” Kieran paused. “Do you… wanna fuck me?” 

“Yeah.” Trembling slightly, Kieran picked up the oil and took Arthur’s hand in his, coating Arthur's fingers with it. 

“Start with one.” Kieran laid back and Arthur knelt between his legs. Kieran’s heart jumped when he felt Arthur at his entrance. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more than this. He exhaled sharply when Arthur pushed inside, slow and shallow. 

“Okay?” Arthur breathed. Kieran nodded. Arthur slid his finger further in and Kieran moaned at the tight burning pleasure. He was aware of Arthur watching his face for cues. He closed his eyes to lose himself in the sensation of Arthur’s finger working him looser. After a few more thrusts, he felt himself relax enough for a second finger. 

“You can put two in.” 

Arthur slicked fresh oil on his fingers and entered him. Kieran clenched his jaw, gripping the blanket beneath him as he clenched around Arthur’s fingers. He felt Arthur hesitate at his reaction and encouraged him with a buck of his hips. Arthur moved again. Kieran gasped, amazed at how much better it felt when the fingers were not his own. Arthur kissed him sweetly. Heat bloomed in Kieran’s chest; he arched into the kiss, putting a hand on the back of Arthur’s neck to keep him close. Arthur turned his fingers, sending sparks strobing up and down Kieran’s body. He gasped again, grinding down on Arthur’s hand. 

“Ready.” Kieran whispered. Arthur breathed out harshly. Kieran watched him spread oil on his cock, the sight of Arthur’s fingers around his shaft enough to send heat surging through him. Arthur shifted forward and held his body over Kieran’s. Kieran felt Arthur’s weight over him, the strength of his arms around him. He met Arthur’s eyes. Closer to the lantern light, the richness of their blue arrested him. Arthur gazed at him a beat longer before dipping his head close to Kieran’s face. Arthur kissed his cheek quickly, resting the head of his cock at Kieran’s entrance. Kieran trembled. He gripped Arthur’s shoulder blades. “Arthur…”

A choked cry left Kieran when Arthur pushed his hips forward. The intensity of Arthur filling him sated something deep and hollow inside him. “Christ,” Arthur hissed. He groaned, sinking the rest of the way into Kieran. Kieran clung to him and rolled his hips. Arthur started to thrust. Kieran moved to match him, chasing the unbelievable pressure of Arthur breaching him. Arthur’s breath billowed hotly in his ear. Arthur shifted his hands to Kieran’s hips, lifting him to find a new angle. Kieran eagerly complied. He panted as Arthur fucked sharply into him, filling him completely each time. He felt Arthur’s muscles, tense and immensely strong, as Kieran gripped his arms, begging wordlessly to be fucked harder. Arthur seemed to understand and lengthened his strokes without dulling their harshness. 

Kieran’s body jolted when Arthur hit the bundle of nerves inside him. Heat tightened in the pit of his stomach. “Like that?” Arthur growled. He jerked his hips hard, brushing the spot again. Kieran moaned, grinding senselessly forward, too lost to answer. Arthur held onto him and set a punishing rhythm. Kieran could not get enough of it. He shut his eyes, each nerve singing, on fire. The heat in his belly was sharpening. He knew he didn’t have long. Judging by Arthur’s gasping breaths, he wasn’t far behind. 

Arthur’s thrusts grew ragged, desperate. “Kieran, I…” He panted. 

“Please. Arthur.” Kieran answered, reaching for his cock and stroking himself hastily. Kieran watched Arthur's face through his orgasm, his hair sticking to his forehead, his mouth falling open. Kieran groaned and came, pleasure blowing through him. His mind blanked. A few seconds rolled past in weightless bliss before his vision returned. When Kieran returned to himself, he looked up at Arthur, who hadn’t moved away. Arthur smiled breathlessly at him, damp chest glistening in the lantern light. They cleaned each other in a quiet Kieran guessed neither wanted to break.

Kieran tossed the rags to a far corner of the tent. Arthur circled him with his arms from behind, laying his forehead on Kieran’s shoulder. Kieran could feel his heartbeat settling. He was reluctant to let his voice ruin the silence but forced himself to speak. He put a hand on Arthur’s. “Was that… good? For you?” 

Arthur let out a shuddering sigh. “Damn near killed me.” Kieran laughed softly. 

“You ain’t that old.” He faced Arthur, who was gazing at him in a way no one had before. He felt heat rise in his cheeks. He kissed Arthur and held him, suddenly afraid of being without him. “Will you stay?” Kieran whispered. Arthur put his arms around him. 

“Course I will.” 

They slipped under the bearskin, naked skin on naked skin. Kieran put out the lantern. Arthur rolled over and Kieran put his arm over him. He pressed his body against Arthur. He fell asleep to the sound of Arthur snoring gently.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy SHIT fam, sorry this took so long. Hope you enjoy!

Arthur held Bahira’s reins in one hand as the small horse picked her way through the snow, hooves sinking into the drifts. Kieran trailed not far behind on his roan, following Arthur up the rise. They'd come up from Lemoyne the day before to the southern plains of New Hanover to hunt bison. Arthur knew the herds migrated this way during the winter in search of food and warmer conditions, although to him it was still damn cold. Even through two pairs of socks he could hardly feel his toes. 

He pulled his horse to a stop at the top of the rise. Kieran came up beside him and looked through his binoculars at the fuzzy black spots in the distance, which Arthur knew to be the herd. Bison moved continually to new grazing ground and the pair had gradually closed the distance between them and their quarry over the past several hours. It had been rough, frigid going, but the company was enough to keep Arthur's spirits up. Kieran pulled down the red scarf he had over his nose. 

“It’s mostly cows, but there’s a big ol’ bull off to the left there.” He pointed in the general direction. “Whaddya think?” Arthur looked through his own binoculars and spied the animal Kieran was talking about, huge and shaggy with a back covered in snow. 

“I’d say we ring aroun’ this way, keep from spookin’ ‘em.” Arthur urged Bahira into a walk. They gave the herd a wide clearance, working their way slowly to a position that would give them the best shot at taking down the bull. Snow blanketed every feature of the plains as far as he could see in front of him. Arthur hated snow. Its monotonous tone gave the land an alien and unwelcome atmosphere that set him on edge. He felt adrift, exposed. Thankfully, it didn’t have the same effect on Kieran. Kieran rode with head held high, scanning the never-ending whiteness attentively. Arthur had even heard him humming a riding song. 

Arthur kept an eye on the herd as they went, tracking the bull. Thankfully, the big animal hadn’t gone far, digging at the ground and continuing to graze. Arthur reined Bahira in and dismounted, retrieving his Remington rolling block rifle. He hefted the rifle and adjusted the sights. Kieran came to stand by him, rubbing his hands together and shivering. 

“Why don’t you take the shot?” Arthur suggested. Kieran looked over at him. 

“Me? You sure?” Arthur nodded and handed him the rifle. He stepped back, giving Kieran room to acquaint himself with the gun. Kieran took off his gloves before repositioning the rifle, sighting down on the bison, his breath frosting. Kieran pulled the trigger. The shot echoed loudly. Arthur saw the animal drop to its knees before falling onto its side. The herd thundered in the opposite direction, bellowing. 

“Good shot.” Arthur thumped Kieran on the back, who seemed pleased. Kieran smiled. 

“Thanks.” They mounted their horses and rode to the kill, nearly a thousand feet away. For most of the afternoon they dressed the bison, skinning it and divesting it of its usable parts. They stripped away its meat, storing it in sacks and pouches they tethered to their mounts. They worked mostly without speaking, shedding their coats when they started to sweat but keeping their scarves over their noses to subdue the overpowering stench. The light was fading when they finished. Arthur scrubbed his forearms with snow to wash off the worst of the blood. Bone-weary, he climbed into his saddle and led them south. 

They halted for the night in a copse of trees and buried the sacks containing the animal parts in the snow. Arthur pitched the tent while Kieran tended the horses, talking to them quietly while he removed their tack. Later, they dined on smoked venison and beans, with canned peaches for dessert. The night deepend around them as they sat by the fire, smoking, Kieran laughing as Arthur told him about the time he rescued a German settler who'd been kidnapped. “We’re ridin’ back to his family and the whole time this feller’s tryin’ to talk to me in German, can’t speak a lick ‘o English. He gave me some gold at the end of it, for my trouble.” 

“Not bad.” Kieran let out a breath of smoke. “Wish I could run into some folks like that. You still got it?”

“Nah, that money’s long gone.” Arthur took a draw from his cigarette. 

“When do you think Dutch’ll let me out on my own?” Arthur turned his head to look at him, finding Kieran staring into the fire. “He’s gotta know I ain’t gonna run back to Colm.” Arthur sighed. 

“It probably doesn’t have much to do with you. Dutch’s feud with Colm, it goes way back. Just… give it time. He’ll come around.” Kieran didn’t say anything. Arthur knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted. “I’ll put in a word with Dutch when we get back.” He added. 

“Thanks, Arthur.” Kieran moved closer and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “I owe ya.” 

“Consider it a personal favor.” He said, putting an arm around Kieran. 

“You been with Dutch a long time, right?” 

“Twenty years, just about.” 

“So, you like ‘im?” There was something in Kieran’s voice Arthur couldn’t identify. 

“Sure. The man’s like a father to me.” Arthur took a guess at what was bothering Kieran. “He ain’t gonna hurt you. Dutch ain’t like that.” 

“N-no, I didn’t think he would.” Arthur held him tightly and kissed his hair. 

“Even if he wanted to, I wouldn’t let him.” 

“I know.” That unreadable tone was still there. Arthur frowned. 

“What’sa matter?” Kieran was quiet; Arthur waited somewhat anxiously for him to speak. 

“I… don’t wanna leave the US. I know Dutch has a plan to have us all go to Tahiti once this is over, but… I don’t… want to.” He pulled back and searched Arthur’s eyes, and to his dismay Arthur realized Kieran was expecting a negative reaction. “I don’t wanna cause trouble,” Kieran rushed out. “And, I know the gang is family to you, so maybe it’s best if-”

“Whoa, slow down.” Arthur took Kieran’s hand in his, running his thumb gently over the back of his hand. “Where’s this comin’ from?” Kieran took a steadying breath. 

“What I feel for you, Arthur…” He didn’t meet Arthur’s gaze. “I don’t wanna lose you. Tahiti isn’t where I imagined spending the rest of my life, or any of it, really, but I can’t…” He squeezed Arthur’s hand and trailed off. Sadness rose in Arthur as he came to understand what Kieran was saying: Kieran valued his relationship with Arthur above his own desired direction in life. 

“Hey,” Kieran looked at him with some reluctance. “I made no promises to follow Dutch around forever. Once we have enough money to get everyone outta here, he won’t need me no more.” 

“You… don’t want to go with them?” Kieran said in disbelief. 

“It’s not like that. Sayin’ goodbye’ll be hard, but… You and me, we got somethin’ good here. And I ain't too keen on the idea of leavin’, either.” He brought Kieran’s hand to his lips. “If you wanna stay, we’ll stay.” Arthur waited. Kieran regarded him cautiously and a long moment passed. 

“I don’t wanna take you from the people you love.” He said finally. He tried to take his hand back but Arthur wouldn’t let him. Arthur leveled his gaze at him, wanting more than anything to convey his next words with sincerity. 

“You won’t be.” Kieran stared at him. Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs, genuinely afraid for the first time in longer than he could remember. It hadn't been his intention to tell Kieran for some time, but being possessed of a foolish heart made him do stupid things. Kieran opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, then closed it. Arthur allowed himself to start panicking. He made to speak but Kieran beat him to it. 

“You mean that?” Kieran said softly. Arthur pulled him into his lap. 

“I do. I am many things, but a patient man ain’t one of ‘em.” It was only half a joke. It shocked him how completely Kieran had disarmed him these past months, but he was far from unhappy about it. 

“I did notice that.” Kieran laughed, running his hands up Arthur’s back underneath his coat. “But that’s alright by me.” Arthur rested his forehead on Kieran’s. For a moment he could not speak through the tightness in his throat. 

“For as long as you’ll have me.” He confessed. 

“I won’t forget that, Arthur Morgan.” Kieran said. They held each other, Arthur oblivious to all else save the swelling warmth in his chest. He'd wasted enough opportunities in life and was unwilling to wander aimless for the rest of his days. All the violence and death wrought by his hands diminished to nothing compared to how strongly Kieran made him believe he could do better, be a better man. No one else had given him the courage to try. God, did Arthur want to try now. For him. 

*** 

Kieran and Arthur made it back to Shady Belle the next day. They left the snow behind them, allowing for quicker progress on the return journey. They rode abreast on the forested dirt track leading to the manor house and passed the stone walls marking the edge of the property. Kieran reflected on how different it looked wreathed by bare trees and brown fields under a pale sky. They dismounted near the hitching posts and were immediately accosted by Uncle, reeking of alcohol. The old man peered at Arthur untying his saddle bags. “Uncle,” Arthur greeted with practiced civility. 

“Where you been?” Uncle articulated with the precision of a man who knew he was drunk. 

“Makin’ sure you don’t starve.” Arthur dumped one of the sacks into Uncle’s arms. Uncle staggered back.

“What t’hell ‘m I suppos’d to do w’this?” He demanded. Kieran saw a muscle twinge in Arthur’s jaw and tried his best not to smile. 

“Take it to Pearson, unless you wanna try cookin’ it yourself.” Uncle swayed, then turned and lurched in the general direction of Pearson’s wagon. “And come back and help us with the rest.” Arthur yelled after him. 

“Bullshit you ain’t a patient man.” Kieran drawled. Arthur sighed but betrayed himself with a grin. They untied the sacks from the horses and hauled what they could over to Pearson. Uncle miraculously turned up to assist in carrying the remainder of the hundreds of pounds of meat, somehow managing to do the least work while complaining loudly how unappreciated he was. 

“Well done, gentlemen!” Pearson praised as Kieran dropped the last of the load by his wagon. Uncle flopped dramatically to the ground.

“I don’t know what you boys would do without me.” He said. Arthur dug the toe of his boot into his side, making him yelp. 

“Get outta here, y’old mess.” He chided before addressing Pearson. “Figure that’ll set us for a while.” Pearson grunted affirmatively. 

“Absolutely. Can’t thank you boys enough.” Arthur touched his fingers to the brim of his hat and sauntered off. Kieran nodded to Pearson and started to make for his tent before he was stopped by Charles. He seemed somewhat out of breath. 

“Mr. Smith?” Kieran queried. 

“Charles, please.” Charles corrected kindly. “I need your help.” He started walking and motioned for Kieran to follow. “Taima, she was shot. It hit her in the flank. I got her back here but now she won’t let me near her.” Charles was speaking quickly. They approached the field where the horses were kept and Kieran saw her right away, standing at a distance from the others. Dark red stained the spotted coat of her hindquarters. Taima picked up her head and observed them, swishing her tail. 

“This is as close as I can get.” Charles explained. “Maybe you could calm her and take a look at her wound.” 

“I’ll sure try.” Kieran started in her direction, taking measured steps and speaking in a high, clear voice. “Taima! What have you gotten yourself into?” The horse tossed her head but didn’t fly from him. He smiled at her. “That’s a girl. You ain’t in trouble. I know you’re hurtin’, I just wanna take a look atcha.” Kieran was now close enough to see her nostrils flaring. She quaked from fear and pain. He took one more step and stopped, trusting her to come to him when she was ready. “You don’t gotta worry, sweetheart.” He said in a lilting voice. “I got you.” 

The mare snorted. She took a delicate step, then another, and a third had her pressing her shoulder against Kieran’s outstretched hand. “Good girl, good girl, Taima.” He praised. She was sweaty and tense under his touch. He soothed her with quiet words and stroked her neck, taking her reins in his other hand. “I promise, I’ll take care of you.” With a slight pull on the reins, he led her back to where Charles was waiting. 

“That was amazing.” Charles took the reins from Kieran and patted her neck. Kieran shrugged and rifled through his bag, searching for the burdock paste he used as a salve for equine injuries. 

“It weren’t nothin’.” He muttered, but the compliment mean a lot. He kept a hand on Taima’s back. Kieran pulled out the tin of paste, feeling the horse tremble when he got close to her flank. “You’re okay,” He said. “I won’t hurt you.” He could see the wound wasn’t deep; it appeared the shot had grazed her. “It looks worse than it is,” He informed Charles. “She’ll heal up fine.” Kieran popped open the tin. He dipped his fingers in the salve and gently brushed the outside of the bullet wound with it. Taima flattened her ears and tried to shy away but was held fast by Charles’ grip on her bridle. “Nearly done, sweet girl.” Kieran soothed. A few more dabs of the medicine and Kieran was satisfied. Taima stood still as he and Charles removed her tack before sending her off to the herd. 

“You have a special way with them, Kieran.” Charles observed as he set Taima’s saddle over a nearby hitching fence. “Thank you.” 

“Take care of them and they’ll take care of you.” Kieran replied simply. He almost missed Charles’ smile as Charles turned and led the way back. As they neared the campfire, Kieran automatically started veering off towards his tent. 

“Have a drink with us?” Charles offered over his shoulder. Kieran froze for a second, then trailed after him. John moved over to make room for them on the log and Charles handed him a drink. Kieran was subsequently captured in conversation with Javier, who was eager to share a story about how his uncle had tamed a wild horse when Javier was a boy. In the midst of the words and the burn of cheap liquor, Kieran caught Arthur’s eye across the fire. Arthur winked at him. Blushing, Kieran turned back to Javier and asked about his childhood south of the border. As Javier launched into the tale, Kieran realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since he sat down. This is what he'd been missing. 

Bill started to sing something that could have resembled a song if the words had been untangled and was loudly told to shut up by no less than three people. Kieran chuckled as Bill snapped out of his stupor and gruffly composed himself. “As I was saying…” Javier continued, and Kieran had the feeling he was in for a long story. But he didn’t mind at all.


	5. Chapter 5

There were few things as uniquely terrifying as staring down the barrel of a gun, but in talking with Dutch van der Linde Kieran found a comparable experience. “Winter,” Dutch remarked, leaning on the railing of the second story porch and looking out north over the grounds. “A season of waiting.” 

“I-If you say so, sir.” Dutch didn’t react to his words, which only served to worsen Kieran’s anxiety. 

“Arthur tells me you’re ready for solo work.” 

Kieran’s mouth was dry. “Yes sir, I am.” Dutch passed a critical eye over him; Kieran willed himself not to faint. Dutch grinned and pushed away from the railing.

“You know, a year ago if someone told me I’d be placing my trust in an O’Driscoll, I would have shot him on the spot.” Dutch guided them back into the house. “Now I’m actually considering it.” He crossed over to an upholstered armchair by the fireplace. Dutch lowered himself into the chair and pinned Kieran with an pitiless stare. “Convince me, son.” 

“I-I’ve had lots of opportunities to run that I didn’t take,” Kieran said, suffocating under Dutch’s scrutiny. “And I saved Arthur’s life.” 

“You did.” 

Kieran gulped. “You can ask anybody ‘round here if I pull my weight, and they’ll tell you. I’d… really like to gettin’ to more than that.” 

Dutch was entirely unreadable. For several moments he said and did nothing. Kieran wondered vaguely if Dutch wanted him to say more. Dutch let out a weighty sigh. 

“These people are family, Kieran. I could not abide it if something were to happen to them.” Kieran kept silent. Dutch didn’t take his eyes off him, and with a jolt, Kieran understood Dutch meant it as a threat. He nodded, fighting to find his voice. 

“Y-Yes, sir. I don’t want no trouble.” 

“Neither do I, son, neither do I.” Dutch stood and put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled. “Good luck out there.” Kieran shivered. Dutch left the room. Kieran sagged against a nearby wall and waited for his head to stop swimming. He had done what he came to do and was happy to have Dutch’s blessing, even if he wasn’t sure it was a blessing. His permission, then. Kieran was ready to meet the higher expectations that would be placed on him now. He wanted to do what he could for these folks before they went their separate ways. However long it took to get there. 

***

Later, after he helped Pearson prep ingredients for that night’s meal, Kieran sat with his back against a tree and watched Lenny and Jack play with Cain. They would toss a stick, which Cain would tear after and bring back to drop at their feet, wagging his tail furiously. Jack couldn’t throw it very far, but Cain’s excitement never waned. He fetched the stick a dozen times or so before deciding he wanted to keep it. Lenny chased after him, Cain taunting him just out of reach. “C’mon, boy! Give it here!” Jack giggled at Lenny’s hopeless efforts. 

Javier walked over to Kieran. “It’s good to hear Jack laugh.” He said. “He deserves a better childhood than this.” Kieran hummed in agreement and looked to where Abigail was standing on the porch, gazing at her son with love in her eyes. His heart twisted with old pain. 

“At least he has a ma and pa that love ‘im.” To Kieran’s surprise, Javier snorted. 

“Don’t let John hear you say that.” Now that he thought about it, Kieran couldn’t recall many times he’d seen John and Jack together. 

“Does he think Jack ain’t his?” He guessed. Javier shrugged, his expression hard. 

“Who knows what goes on in that man’s head. Anyway, I was going to ask if you wanted to go hunting.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Javier helped Kieran to his feet and the two made their way to their horses. 

*** 

The sky was darkening by the time they were making their way back with a boar and a brace of rabbits tied to Javier’s horse. “You’re not too bad with a gun, _amigo_.” Javier said. “I’d like to see how well you do with a fishing pole.” 

“You like fishin’?” Kieran reined his horse to a stop and hopped down to help Javier with the kills. 

“Love it. We should go when it gets warmer.” They shouldered the boar, sharing the weight easily between them. 

“That’d be nice.” Kieran heart was light. He looked forward to spending more time with Javier. Given time, Kieran could see them becoming friends. When they had deposited their haul and Kieran turned back to take care of his roan, he saw Arthur riding in. It had been three days without him and Kieran had felt his absence constantly. He ached for him. He slowed, letting Javier get ahead of him. He made sure Javier was heading for Boaz before Kieran quickened his steps towards his roan, grazing near where Arthur was dismounting. Arthur looked over his shoulder when Kieran approached and his eyes lingered. 

“You smell like horse.” Arthur remarked, turning back to Bahira. Kieran laughed softly and started at the buckles on his roan’s bridle. 

“That’s somethin’, comin’ from you.” Arthur chuckled. It was quiet for a minute; Kieran listened to Arthur loosen his saddle’s girth straps. The longer the silence persisted, the stronger the charge that built between them. The tension was palpable. Kieran, unable to endure it, stopped what he was doing. “I wanna fuck you sideways, Arthur.” Arthur exhaled shakily. 

“Is that a promise?” Kieran heard him slip his horse’s bridle off her head. He swallowed hard. 

“Depends.” Kieran removed his roan’s saddle, returning it to the hitching fence. “You want me to?” Their backs were to each other, which was for the best, Kieran thought. He knew if he could see Arthur’s face right now he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off him. 

“Yes.” Arthur’s voice was barely a whisper. Kieran took a moment to regain control. 

“You know where to find me.” He returned as he walked past him towards camp. 

***

Kieran sat at the table a short way from the campfire, where most of the gang was finishing their dinner. He brought the cigarette to his lips and tried to keep his eyes from roaming to Arthur, seated by John. His willpower failing, Kieran glanced at him. Arthur appeared engrossed in conversation with the younger man. Kieran didn’t know much about John, only what he'd seen and what Arthur had told him: a crack shot, unwilling father, hot-tempered. Kieran was drawn from his thoughts by someone approaching. Hosea stopped at a polite distance.

“Mind if I join you?” 

“Not at all.” Hosea sat down. Kieran offered a smoke, which Hosea accepted.

“Thank you.” Hosea said. He struck a match on his boot and lit the cigarette. He took a thoughtful draw and leaned back, arm resting on the table. Kieran glanced at him and found him watching the gathered people wistfully. 

“You smoke like Arthur.” Hosea observed. Kieran wasn’t sure if he was meant to respond but did anyway. 

“Oh.” Hosea chuckled at his uncertain reply. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Kieran.” Kieran was surprised Hosea remembered his name. Kieran hadn’t spoken to him before. “I fear what the future might bring, to all of us.” 

“What does that have to do with me, sir?” 

“I’ve seen much of what the world has to offer men like us. None of it’s good.” Hosea released smoke from his lungs. “I can’t help but worry, ‘specially for John and Arthur. Dutch and I practically raised them.” After a pause, Hosea continued. “Do you love him?” Kieran’s heart nearly lept out of his chest. He was going to deny knowing what Hosea meant, but upon meeting his eyes, the protest died in Kieran’s throat. 

“I… I do.” Hosea looked back to the campfire. Kieran followed his gaze to John and Arthur. “How did you know?” Kieran asked softly. 

“I know them as I know myself.” Hosea seemed almost sad. “He’s happy. Happier than I’ve seen him in years.” Hosea didn’t say more. They smoked in silence for a time. Hosea was an unknown to Kieran, but there was no doubt Hosea loved Arthur very much. Kieran felt he could trust him. Hosea put his hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “Take care of him, please.” He said. 

“I will, sir.” Hosea squeezed his shoulder, got up, and walked away. Kieran crushed his spent cigarette under his boot. He felt as if he'd been trusted with something precious, drawn into a solemn pact. He lifted his eyes to Arthur. He loved him and never wanted to stop. Kieran found the word for what Hosea had given him at the same moment Arthur caught his eye and smiled. His blessing.


	6. Chapter 6

Winter wore on. January came. Kieran ventured out on his own for the first time, bringing in a respectable take from a farm near Rhodes. It quickly became apparent from speaking with the others and through his own experience that winter was the worst time for jobs. The cold drove people indoors and made them less likely to travel by means other than railway. Shipments of supplies and payroll over roads were infrequent, and snow made quick getaways from such robberies impossible, so they were avoided. The gang was forced to travel as far as Valentine for work; even then, success was not guaranteed. 

Arthur and Kieran found other ways to occupy themselves. They dared not use Arthur’s bed for fear of being heard. Most often, Arthur found his way to Kieran’s tent in the dead of night and would scarcely get inside before they tore off each other’s clothes. 

While a true power dynamic was absent from their relationship in those early days, a preference for position was not. Arthur enjoyed being on his back, whether that meant fucking into Kieran as he bounced on Arthur’s cock or being pounded into by him. It wasn’t until the night Kieran felt bold enough to pull Arthur’s hair that Kieran discovered Arthur’s weakness for being controlled. To his amazement, Arthur responded eagerly to his coaxing, and Kieran found he loved having Arthur do exactly as he said. This escalated to Kieran gathering the nerve to whisper things to Arthur during their lovemaking, things that made Arthur pant and rut against him.

One of the few times they’d had sex in a bed was when they made off to Saint Denis under the guise of scouting a job. They rented a hotel room – entering separately, of course – intent on indulging a sinful wish Arthur had muttered in Kieran’s ear as they laid together, sweaty and spent. Kieran tied Arthur to the bed and teased him, denying him again and again until there were tears in Arthur’s eyes. When he finally came it was with a choked sob that ripped Kieran’s orgasm from him violently. Kieran freed Arthur’s wrists and made sure he was alright. They traded breathless kisses while Kieran rubbed his arms and shoulders, telling Arthur how well he’d done and how much he loved him. 

Two weeks later, Kieran leaned against the siding of an abandoned shack deep in the trees of Bolder Glade, waiting. He huddled into his coat against the biting wind. Kieran guessed his three minutes were nearly up and forced down the butterflies in his stomach. He almost couldn’t believe Arthur trusted him enough for this. Staring at his boots, he willed himself to be patient just a little while longer. Kieran counted one minute more. He shrugged off the side of the house, took a deep breath, and settled into character. 

He opened the door. The room wasn’t very big, lit by a lantern on the windowsill and another on a crate by the door. Arthur was seated in a chair in the middle of the room, wrists bound behind the chair’s back and his ankles tied to its legs. He hadn’t looked up when Kieran entered and resolutely stared at the floor. “Arthur Morgan,” Kieran kept his voice cool. “Heard a lot about you. Mostly how much trouble you been givin’ us.” He leaned against a support beam, feigning at sizing Arthur up. Arthur still refused to look at him. “Nothin’ to say? You’ll save yourself a helluva lot of sufferin’ if you talk now.” No answer. 

Kieran huffed in mock annoyance. He stepped behind Arthur and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back. Arthur grunted. “You stubborn, or just stupid?” Kieran growled. “You got yourself caught, so Imma go with stupid.” He saw Arthur’s pulse flutter in his neck, his breathing tense and measured. Kieran struggled to keep his arousal in check. “Let’s try again, friend.” He brought out an old hunting knife, purposefully blunted, and carefully held it against Arthur’s neck. “Tell me where ya’ll hid that score you stole off us, or you won’t like how this turns out.” Arthur let out a shaky breath. 

“You’ll have to kill me.” Arthur said huskily. A thrill ran up the back of Kieran’s neck. 

“Have it your way.” Kieran sheathed the knife and tugged his neckerchief loose. “If you ain’t gonna use that pretty mouth…” He gagged Arthur with it, tying it securely but not so tight that it would cut. Arthur stiffened but didn’t resist. Kieran walked out in front of Arthur, looking him up and down. Arthur glared at him, but Kieran didn’t miss how he’d pressed himself as far back into the chair as he could to put distance between them. “Scared, Morgan?” Arthur narrowed his eyes and held Kieran’s stare. “You’ve got spirit, no doubt.” He paused, as if considering. He let a small smirk come to his face. 

Kieran approached until he was very much crowding Arthur. Uncertainty flashed across Arthur’s face as Kieran brought his hand up. “We’ll see if this takes the fight outta you.” Kieran drew his fingers over Arthur’s cheek. Arthur flinched away. “You ain’t gotta be shy,” Kieran purred, starting to loosen the top button of Arthur’s shirt. “I won’t tell nobody.” The look of shock Arthur wore was almost funny. The situation seemed to hit him when the first button came undone and he tried to twist away, but he had nowhere to go. Arthur struggled to free his hands as Kieran exposed more of his chest. 

“You’ll get nowhere with that,” Kieran said flatly. He touched Arthur’s chest. “Those knots would hold a horse.” Kieran swept his thumb over Arthur’s nipple and relished the sounds of distress the action drew from him. Humming appreciatively, Kieran parted Arthur’s opened shirt. “My, aren’t you somethin’.” He rolled Arthur’s nipple under his fingertips and watched him squirm. Arthur shut his eyes and turned his face away. Kieran dipped his head to kiss Arthur’s collarbone, feeling him shake. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” He murmured into Arthur’s heated skin. Kieran kissed down the hard plane of Arthur’s stomach. 

He put his hands on Arthur’s thighs, dangerously close to his crotch. Arthur bucked his hips, making an outraged sound that resembled a curse. Kieran smiled. He palmed Arthur through his pants, eliciting a muffled yelp. Arthur tried to wrench away but Kieran held his hips down, robbing him of what little leverage he had. Arthur’s pants were unbuttoned and unceremoniously pulled down. Kieran was pleased to see Arthur half hard already. He lifted his eyes to Arthur’s face. Arthur’s expression was a cross between murderous and mortified. “Try not to struggle, Morgan.” Kieran advised. 

Kieran laved his tongue over Arthur’s burgeoning erection. He worked him slowly, savoring each stroke, loving the whimpers Arthur was desperately trying to keep back. Kieran sank his mouth over the stiffening shaft. Arthur came to full hardness under the firm motion of Kieran’s lips and tongue working in tandem. Kieran rewarded him with a few quick, hard sucks. Kieran pulled off him. “Knew you’d warm up to me.” If looks could kill, Kieran would’ve been dead. “Don’t be like that, Morgan.” He admonished, then teased the slit of Arthur’s head with his tongue. Arthur’s cock twitched. Kieran smirked and swallowed him down again.

Wasting no time, Kieran set to making Arthur suffer in the best possible way. He worked him quickly, roughly, in the ways he knew made Arthur weak. Kieran felt his pants growing tighter at the noises Arthur was making. Kieran drew back and fisted Arthur’s cock, his hand slipping easily over the wet skin. Arthur’s head was thrown back, chest heaving. Arthur’s hips shuddered when Kieran twisted his wrist at the top of his strokes. Kieran swapped his fingers for his mouth and sucked down Arthur’s length, rubbing the flat of his tongue against him. Kieran ran a hand through the dark hair of Arthur’s abdomen.

Kieran felt Arthur tense under him. He humored Arthur, allowing him to thrust into his mouth. Kieran urged him to the edge, nearly feeling guilty when Arthur’s ragged breathing started to hitch. He pulled off his cock, giving the weeping head a parting kiss. Kieran met Arthur’s unfocused gaze, reading his confusion. “You wanna come, you gotta talk.” Kieran explained. Kieran mouthed at Arthur’s shaft. He could feel how close Arthur was and wanted to keep him there until he couldn’t see straight. 

Kieran proceeded as promised, bringing Arthur to a gasping, writhing crest before abandoning him to simmer uselessly, cock jerking and leaking. After the fourth time Kieran had done this, Kieran put his hands on Arthur’s thighs and looked up at him. Arthur was breathing like a wounded animal, hoarse and uneven. Color had bloomed in his cheeks, spreading to his neck with the intensity of his arousal. Kieran raised an eyebrow. “You ready to give me what I want?” There was only an instant of hesitation before Arthur nodded. Kieran got to his feet and reached behind Arthur’s head to untie the gag. Arthur worked his jaw to soothe the cramped muscles.

“... Shady Belle. The take’s at Shady Belle.” He sounded dejected. Kieran made a noise of approval. 

“That was all I needed.” He turned and made to leave. 

“Stop!” The panicked pitch of Arthur’s voice sent a jolt through Kieran. Kieran faced Arthur, playing at impatience. 

“What?” Kieran could see Arthur fighting his pride. His cock stood painfully erect against his stomach. 

“Finish me, please.” Arthur’s voice broke on the last word. “I… I can’t…” Kieran hung back. Arthur looked at him, begging. Kieran sighed. 

“Alright. But only ‘cause I like you.” He knelt between Arthur’s thighs and took Arthur deeply. Arthur gasped. Kieran sucked him earnestly, settling into a quick rhythm he knew would take Arthur apart. 

“Ah, _ahh!"_ Arthur usually wasn’t loud. Kieran guessed he was past the point of caring, and damn if it wasn’t making Kieran’s blood run hot. Kieran slid up and down Arthur’s cock, feeling Arthur’s hips shake. Kieran doubled down, rolling his tongue along Arthur’s shaft and sucking his lips back and forth over his head. Arthur cried out and Kieran felt his cock pulse in his mouth. Hot seed hit the back of his throat and Kieran swallowed while continuing to stimulate Arthur through his orgasm. Kieran swallowed the last of Arthur’s heavy load and withdrew, resting his head on Arthur’s thigh for a moment. Arthur's eyes were half-closed as he came off his high. Kieran untied his ankles then went around to free Arthur’s arms. 

“You okay?” Kieran asked. He rubbed Arthur’s wrists, working his way up his forearms. Arthur let his head loll back and hummed blissfully. 

“Never better.” He said. Kieran leaned down and kissed him. 

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered as their lips parted. Kieran smiled and brushed Arthur’s nose with his. Gathering the rope, Kieran started coiling it and wasn’t prepared for Arthur to grab him and pull him into his lap. He made a small startled sound that was muffled by a firm kiss, then another. Arthur kissed him once more and pressed his cheek against Kieran’s. “I mean it, thank you.” He said softly. Kieran’s heart ached with happiness. He put his arms around Arthur. 

“You only have to ask.” They sat that way for several moments, holding each other. Arthur pulled back, and Kieran only had a moment to identify the wicked gleam in his eye before Arthur picked him up and pinned him against the nearest wall. Kieran’s breath left him in a rush. Arthur kissed him hungrily.

“Want me to return the favor?” Arthur’s voice made him shiver. Kieran tried to form a reply as Arthur pressed open-mouthed kisses down his neck. 

“Y-You don’t have to…” Arthur's thigh settled against his crotch. Kieran’s mind shorted at the rush of pleasure the contact brought. 

“You know I want to.” Arthur said. Kieran gasped as Arthur ground his thigh into him. 

“Yes.” It was all Kieran needed to say.


	7. Chapter 7

The sky above Shady Belle was dark and studded with stars, the central campfire keeping the night’s heaviness at bay. Its cheerful glow drew in those still awake at this hour. Karen, Javier, Charles, Kieran, and Pearson sat on crates or reclined on the ground, enjoying the warmth and Javier’s rendition of “The Flowers of Jalisco”. Kieran didn’t have the first idea as to the meaning of the words, but the song was made only lovelier by the unknown quality of the language falling from Javier’s lips. Kieran watched him through half-lidded eyes, enchanted by the sweet timbre of his voice. It went without saying that Javier was alluring, especially unguarded as he was now, and handsome enough to turn heads. Kieran idly wondered if he would've taken a shine to Javier if Arthur hadn’t claimed his attention. 

Beneath the music, there was the scrape of Charles’ knife as he whittled at a block of wood slowly taking the shape of a four-legged animal Kieran couldn’t yet identify. Cain shifted to cuddle closer to Kieran, curled at his side with his head in Kieran’s lap. The dog was dozing, lulled by the relaxed disposition of those gathered. Pearson looked almost asleep himself. There was grumbling from behind them where Micah was lounging at the poker table in self-imposed exile, more than a little drunk. “Shut it, Micah.” Karen growled through her teeth. She swigged the bourbon she was clutching. 

Arthur had been with them earlier, exchanging occasional comments with Charles and Karen. Then Micah showed up, blasted and intent on ruffling feathers. “Cowpoke! Friends,” He’d slurred, lurching up to them. He leered, looking for a reaction. Unfortunately, it was at this moment he spotted the hickey on Arthur’s neck everyone else had tactfully ignored. He’d laughed raucously, demanding to know where Arthur had found a whore desperate enough to service him. Micah then suggested that maybe it hadn’t been a woman, but a man Arthur had sought to satisfy his desires. “Is that it, y’fuckin’ queer?” Micah sneered, too drunk to realize he had crossed a line. Javier stopped playing. The tension was razor-sharp. “You like it in the ass, Morgan?” Micah pushed Arthur’s shoulder, who until this point hadn’t responded to his goading. Arthur stood, radiating anger. Kieran was sure Arthur was going to deck him, but Arthur walked right past him, ignoring Micah’s following taunts. Arthur slipped into the house without a backwards glance. This had taken the wind out of Micah’s sails and he’d slunk over to the table to feel sorry for himself. 

Half an hour had passed since then. Kieran had briefly considered going after Arthur but knew it would’ve come off as odd. The mood around the campfire had healed and was again placid, aside from the irregular sniff or grunt from Micah. Javier yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “Can’t wait to be done with this weather for good,” He mused. 

“No winter in Tahiti.” Karen agreed with a short laugh. “Though I don’t know nothin’ about farming mangoes.” 

“Let’s get there first, then we can worry about that.” Charles said with a touch of humor. 

“The sooner, the better.” She replied emphatically. Charles nodded, focus returning to his carving. 

“Hey, Kieran,” Javier prompted, adjusting his guitar’s tuning pegs. “You give that horse of yours a name?” 

“Yeah, it’s Branwen.” Cain stirred at the sound of his voice. Kieran scratched behind the dog's ears. 

“Good name.” Charles offered, and Javier grunted his assent. Pearson started snoring from where he had fallen asleep sitting up. Karen shook his arm and he woke abruptly. 

“Wha…? Oh.” Footfalls heralded the approach of Sadie, striding out of the shadows with her rifle over her shoulder. 

“You’re up, Kieran.” Kieran gently woke Cain and eased his head off his lap. 

“Sorry, bud.” The cur looked up at him and thumped its tail on the ground. Getting the graveyard shift for guard duty was a clear indication of his position in the pecking order, but it hardly bothered him. Trust and status were earned. Kieran retrieved his coat and the repeater Arthur had loaned him from his tent and trudged off to make his rounds. It was much colder than he’d remembered. His eyes adjusted to the low light and he was soon able to distinguish the features of the trees and fields, bathed in navy shadow. Kieran’s boots crunched over the frosted grass. He circled the property twice, scanning for movement. A couple deer meandered by at the edge of the treeline, soundlessly navigating the undergrowth. He watched them pass out of sight into the brush. 

After his second circle of the grounds, Kieran took up a position by the walls flanking the road. The road was cloaked in darkness. The call of the whip-poor-will was heard in the crystal stillness. Time passed. Kieran paced to keep alert. He flexed his fingers, sore from gripping the repeater for so long. He looked past the walls back to the fields and saw everything as it had been, quiet. A far-off sound reached him. Kieran faced the road, trying to place it. Hoofbeats. He strained his eyes but couldn’t see the source of the noise. He tensed as he realized the hoofbeats were coming closer; there was more than one rider. He swallowed the urge to run.

The riders bore down on him from out of the gloom. The pair slowed as Kieran leveled his gun at them and willed his voice not to shake. “Identify yourselves.” 

“Don’t recognize us?” One said, his face shielded by shadow. He dismounted. As he got closer, Kieran’s stomach dropped when he saw who it was. The man’s name he didn’t know, but he did know him from when they ran together as O’Driscolls. Kieran was so alarmed he almost dropped the gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second rider approach him. Kieran kept his sights trained on the first man. “Thought we was friends, Duffy.” The man spat scornfully. 

Quickly, Kieran raised the repeater’s muzzle and fired two shots into the air. The men lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. The repeater went off as it was torn from Kieran’s grip. “Hold him, hold him down!” The first man barked. The other man grappled with Kieran, trying to pin his arms. Kieran kneed him in the ribs. The man punched him in the face. Ears ringing, Kieran struggled against the man’s considerable weight. Kieran twisted and bit down on his hand. His assailant ripped his bloody hand away with a cry of pain, and the shift in position allowed Kieran to pull himself from under him. Before he could get up, Kieran was hit with a hard crack between his shoulder blades. The first man stood over him, holding Arthur’s repeater. Momentarily stunned, Kieran felt the other man on top of him, felt rope being tied around his wrists. Kieran thrashed, trying to throw him off, but was kicked in the head and told to settle down. 

Shouting was coming from Shady Belle. “Hurry up, Walter.” The man carrying the repeater growled, shoving the gun into his saddle holster and mounting. Kieran’s legs were bound together. Kieran felt like he might throw up. The voices were closer; he could hear people running up the road. 

_"Arthur!"_ Kieran screamed. Walter shoved a filthy rag into his mouth. 

“Shut up.” He hefted Kieran over his shoulder and dumped him on the back of his horse. Gunfire was exchanged as the two O’Driscolls tore away from Shady Belle. The horse’s jostling movements nearly turned Kieran’s stomach. Why hadn’t they killed him? The O’Driscolls rode hard northwest, turning off the road and riding through tall grass that stung Kieran’s face. He started to register how much pain he was in, head throbbing, blood seeping from a split lip. He tried to ignore it. He wondered if he’d be dead before the sun rose. He sobbed into his gag, terrified. 

***

They rode for what must have been hours. Grass turned to snow as they got farther north. The pounding of hooves under him was echoed by the ruthless headache Kieran had. He drifted in and out of consciousness, exhausted, his fear driving him awake each time he nodded off. Kieran came to as the O’Driscolls reined their mounts back to a trot. “Son of a bitch _bit_ me.” Walter sounded outraged. The other chuckled. 

“He’ll get what’s comin’ to him.” 

“What about the others? Think they’re followin’ us?” 

“I doubt it. They coulda tried, but there’s no way in hell they tracked us all the way here.” Wherever they were. Kieran didn’t care. He kept his eyes closed, letting his head bump against the horse’s sweaty flanks. 

“Sigmund, here looks good.” Walter called. “Let’s rest the horses.” Kieran was thrown to the ground and left to lay there as the two unsaddled their horses and got a fire going. Pale blue was rising on the horizon; dawn wasn’t far off. Kieran’s head spun as he lay with his back to his captors. He could hear them eating and talking. The snow soaked his clothes as it melted under his body heat, but it helped to soothe the fierce throb of his headache. Some part of him wasn’t convinced this was actually happening, another part just wanted sleep. His body must have found a way, because the next thing he knew he was starting awake to a kick in the back. 

“Fucking traitor.” Walter hissed. “You’re lucky Colm wants you breathin’.” Terror surged through Kieran. 

“He ain’t worth it.” Sigmund said, sounding bored. 

“He fucking _bit me_.” Walter threw back. “I wanna make him pay.” 

“Just make sure he’s still alive when you’re done.” Kieran was picked up by the collar of his shirt and thrown down hard, his head hitting the ground. He grunted, gag muffling the sound. 

“Look at this!” Walter snarled, waving his bandaged hand in front of Kieran’s unfocused eyes. He kicked him. “You son of a bitch.” Walter landed another blow. Kieran cried out, wincing away. The sharp edges of Walter’s boot cut into him again and again, deliberately seeking out his vital organs. Kieran shrieked as Walter kicked him in the kidneys. Tears streamed down his face. He had never hurt like this before. It was unbearable. Walter stooped, grabbing his shirt, and punched him until blood ran from Kieran’s nose. “Stupid cunt.” Walter taunted. Kieran prayed he’d pass out. 

Walter slammed his fist into Kieran’s jaw and let him fall to the ground. Kieran was paralyzed with pain. He couldn’t see out of his left eye. It was difficult to breathe through the gag; it was his only option, given his broken nose. He felt heavy. Walter shoved him onto his back with his boot. Kieran sobbed. “You’re pathetic.” Walter spat. Kieran thought he heard a click; a hammer being pulled? All thought vanished when solid metal cracked across his cheek. He tasted blood. There was nothing but the pain of the revolver savagely striking him. The noises Kieran made were more of an unconscious reaction at this point. 

“He’s had enough.” Sigmund. “You’ll kill ‘im.” He sounded far away, underwater. 

“Bastard deserves it.” A gunshot rang out. Kieran heard Walter groan and there was a thud in the snow next to him. Someone shouted. Two more shots. The deafening report of a rifle at close range, then silence. Without the constant shock of being struck, Kieran felt his mind going numb. Suddenly hands were on him, someone was speaking to him. With effort he opened his good eye. Arthur. Kieran’s head fell back and he was gone. 

***

Arthur rode like hell. Kieran was in the saddle in front of him, leaving Arthur to balance dangerously on a quarter of the space he normally rode on. The discomfort was the last thing on his mind. Arthur knew Bahira could feel his frantic urgency. She was at the end of her strength, but she gave him everything she had, racing through the snow like the wind itself. “Come on, Kieran.” Arthur pleaded, his arm around Kieran’s waist to keep him upright. Valentine wasn’t far. Bahira rounded the last bend in the road and the town came into view. She barreled through the muddy streets, forcing people to dive out of her way. Arthur didn’t register their angry protests. He brought Bahira to a skidding stop outside the doctor’s building. She quaked with exertion under them. He carefully dismounted and gathered Kieran in his arms. “You.” He tossed Bahira’s reins to a bystander. “Take her, make sure she’s taken care of.” The man blinked at him. “Now!” 

Arthur hurried up the steps. He kicked the door and yelled that somebody better get down here and open this goddamn door _now_. Arthur slammed the door with his boot three more times before it was opened by a very disgruntled looking man. His eyes widened when he saw Kieran. 

“Help him.” Arthur begged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting too long, so I cut it in half.

As soon as Kieran woke, he was in pain. He put a hand to his head to keep it from splitting open from the blinding, searing pressure exploding behind his eyes. A good deal of his face was bandaged, he noticed. He partially opened his good eye. He was in a small room with no windows. Kieran saw sunlight through the small glass pane of the door separating this room from what must have been a larger room. He could feel where he’d been kicked, the scabbed-over skin stretching tight each time he breathed. 

“Welcome back.” A male voice came from somewhere off to his right. Kieran turned his head, the small action enough to send shockwaves through his skull. A man was sitting in a chair by the bed, regarding him. “I’m Doctor Klaus Ebberhardt.” 

“Kieran Duffy.” 

“Yes, I know.” The doctor explained. “Your friend told me what happened.” Ebberhardt nodded towards the floor. Kieran lifted himself onto his elbow and followed his gaze. Arthur was out cold, sitting with his back against the wall, hat tipped over his eyes. “He’s hardly left but to check on his horse.” Kieran didn’t remember anything past the beating, but seeing Arthur snuffed out any worry that Kieran had been taken the rest of the way to Colm’s lair. 

“How long has it been?” Kieran asked. 

“Two days.” Ebberhardt said. “If you’d lay back down, I’d like to look you over.” 

Kieran did as he was told. Ebberhardt examined the bruises and cuts on Kieran’s body, occasionally ghosting a finger over the healing skin. Even the lightest touches stung, and Kieran had to stop himself from jerking away. “Just checking for infection,” Ebberhardt muttered, half to himself. He gave the most time to Kieran’s face, cutting away bloody bandages and cleaning the wounds before redressing them. When Ebberhardt peeled away the cloth covering Kieran’s left eye, Kieran opened it but found he still couldn’t see with it. 

“Close your eyes, please.” Ebberhardt said. Kieran did, then felt the doctor swab around his sightless eye with a strong-smelling but soft material. Fear welled up inside Kieran when the thought struck that he might’ve been permanently blinded. Ebberhardt dried the area he’d cleaned and started applying a new bandage. 

“I… I can’t see outta that eye.” Kieran confessed. 

“There was significant damage done. You might not regain use of it.” Ebberhardt’s hands left Kieran’s face. “I’m sorry.” Kieran didn’t say anything. With one eye, he couldn’t ride, couldn’t shoot. Something clattered to the floor. Ebberhardt cursed. Kieran opened his eye to see Arthur raise his head at the noise, blinking blearily. When Arthur caught sight of Kieran looking at him, there was pure joy written on his face. Schooling his expression to an acceptable level of relief, Arthur came to his side. 

“Kieran.” Arthur took a knee to be at eye level. “Y’alright?” 

“No.” Kieran answered truthfully. Ebberhardt stood, holding the broken instrument he’d retrieved from the floor.

“Damn thing. I’ll be back.” He announced. As soon as the door closed behind him, Arthur was holding Kieran’s hand. 

“Thank you.” It was a challenge for Kieran to speak past the ache in his jaw. Arthur squeezed his hand, blue eyes bright with unshed tears. He seemed to compose himself before replying. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Kieran saw his gaze wander over his bandaged eye. Kieran knew Arthur well enough to know he wouldn’t ask, so Kieran told him. There was no change in Arthur’s expression as Kieran relayed that he’d most likely never see with both eyes again; he only held Kieran’s hand while Kieran choked his way through the words. 

“I just got you back from the dead. Don’t you talk about not bein’ good enough.” Arthur’s voice trembled. He swiped away his tears with the back of his hand. “It weren’t your fault.” Kieran knew it was true but couldn’t accept it just yet; too much had happened, and he was too spent to approach things objectively. Creaking floorboards signaled the return of Ebberhardt. Quickly, Arthur kissed Kieran’s hand and drew back. 

Kieran fell into a deep sleep, aided by the shot of morphine Ebberhardt administered. He woke up sometime in the night, hurting like hell. He expressed this to Ebberhardt, who was again sat in the chair by his bedside. The doctor chuckled good-naturedly. “Your maxilla and nasal bone were probably fractured, and I am amazed none of your ribs broke. They were bruised pretty good, though. If you weren’t in pain, I’d be concerned.”

The next morning Ebberhardt told Kieran one of his molars had come loose and needed to be extracted. Ebberhardt tried to send Arthur away but the latter refused, all but pulling his gun on the doctor in his insistence to stay. Ebberhardt threw up in his hands. “Very well. Try to stay out of the way.” The procedure was bloody and excruciating despite heavy doses of painkillers. Kieran almost fainted when the tooth was pulled from its socket, reeling from sharp bolts of agony through his opium-induced delirium. He was dimly aware of Arthur’s grip on his hand through the whole ordeal. Kieran did his best to stay awake as Ebberhardt packed his mouth with gauze. 

Kieran slept for the next twelve hours. When he came to, he was starving. Arthur brought him a thin soup and fed it to him after Kieran proved too weak to eat on his own. It didn’t take the edge off his hunger, but Kieran appreciated Arthur looking out for him. “You’re real sweet,” Kieran drawled, addled into naked honesty by the morphine. Arthur must’ve understood him through the muffling gauze. He smiled. 

“That so?” Arthur’s kiss on his forehead was the last thing he remembered. 

Another day passed. Ebberhardt deemed Kieran was well enough to travel, if the pace was easy. Money and medical supplies were exchanged between Arthur and the doctor, along with instructions on caring for Kieran’s injured eye. “And keep an eye on that cough, Mr. Morgan.” Ebberhardt advised. “I don’t like how it sounds.” Arthur made a noncommittal noise, turning towards the door. Kieran started getting up from his chair but stopped when Arthur turned back to Ebberhardt. Arthur waved him closer; Ebberhardt warily complied. 

“If you say anything about us, to anyone…” With his thumb, Arthur flipped a bullet at the startled man, who managed to catch it. “The next one’ll be comin’ a lot faster.” Color drained from Ebberhardt’s face and he stammered something about doctor-patient confidentially. Satisfied, Arthur touched his fingers to the brim of his hat and helped Kieran to his feet. They headed outside, and Kieran rejoiced at feeling sunshine on his face again. Two horses stood tethered nearby where Arthur had left them, Bahira and a chocolate roan warmblood Kieran recognized as belonging to Arthur. 

“You remember Rhys.” Arthur said as Kieran swung himself into the saddle, ignoring the pain in his ribs. 

“Hi, handsome.” Kieran greeted the steed with a pat on the neck. Rhys flicked his ears back. Kieran was happy to see Bahira glossy-coated and well fed; he imagined the flight from Shady Belle to here in one night hadn’t been easy on her. They rode out of Valentine at a walk. Kieran was nervous about riding with one eye but found himself relaxing as they put the town to heel. Bright sunlight reflected off the snow pushed to the roadside by the passage of many travelers, leaving a slushy mess for the horses to plod through. Kieran was weak and dizzy from hunger and he didn’t mind the slow progress. 

It took almost four days to get back to Shady Belle. They traveled at a walk, as any faster gait was more than Kieran could handle. When they bedded down for the night, Arthur scrutinized Kieran’s wounds, cleaning whatever discharge his sightless eye produced and changing the gauze packed into his molar’s empty socket. Kieran offered to help, but Arthur shushed him and carried on with patient devotion. Kieran hadn’t known he could love Arthur more than he already did. Arthur didn’t sleep much, staying up to keep watch. The dark circles under Arthur’s eyes and the slump in his shoulders distressed Kieran. 

When the stone walls came into view, a measure of Kieran’s tension left him. The shadowed figure standing guard called out to them; it was John. Arthur spurred Bahira ahead and answered. “Arthur and Kieran.” He sounded exhausted. The ride into camp was a blur to Kieran. He swayed with Rhys’ motion, fighting to stay awake, his head spinning. Suddenly, there were people around him, talking all at once. He tried to bring their faces into focus. He couldn’t.

***

Arthur hadn’t dismounted yet when Kieran fell off Rhys. Thankfully Charles caught him. Once his feet touched the ground, Arthur pushed past the onlookers to make sure Kieran was alright. He cursed himself for pushing Kieran too hard. “He’s fine, Arthur.” Charles assured him. 

“He ain’t fine.” Arthur’s voice was strained. “Look at ‘im.” The group parted for Ms. Grimshaw and she took command of the situation.

“Mr. Smith, bring him here. Come on.” Charles and Arthur followed her closely. The rest of those gathered crowded Arthur, prying him with questions.

“Give him some space.” The edge to Charles’ voice was sufficient. They backed off. Arthur noticed Javier hung back only just and continued to follow them once they had gotten a few steps ahead. They came to the wagons at the back of camp and Ms. Grimshaw led them to a spare cot. She laid a blanket on the cot and lit a lantern while Charles carefully set Kieran down. 

“That’ll do, thank you, Mr. Smith. Mr. Morgan, go get yourself some rest and somethin’ to eat.” Arthur wanted to argue, but the fierce look she gave him withered his resolve. 

“I’ll sit with him.” Javier said quietly, settling to sit cross-legged on a crate nearby. Arthur muttered thanks to someone and let himself be led away by Charles’ hand on his shoulder. 

“You look half dead, Arthur.” Charles said. “What happened?” 

“Chased ‘em to Valentine. Stayed there a couple days, Kieran got seen by a doctor.” 

“He’ll be okay?”

“For the most part.” They came to the front of the house. Micah was sitting on the porch sharpening his knife and growling a bit too loudly about all this commotion for a good-for-nothing O’Driscoll. Arthur’s hackles raised. 

“You got somethin’ to say to me, Micah?” Arthur spat, storming forward. Micah looked up quickly, a smile coming to his face when he saw who it was he’d pissed off. 

“Weren’t about you, cowpoke.” Micah returned. He got up and sauntered a slow half-circle around Arthur, just out of reach. “That cocksucker’s more trouble than he’s wo-”

Arthur punched Micah in the face so hard he went sprawling into the dirt. Micah scrambled back, holding his jaw.

“Watch your goddamn mouth.” Arthur snarled. Micah bared his teeth but didn’t make to get up. 

“Fuck you, Morgan.” 

Arthur felt eyes on him. He didn’t care. He went up the front steps, brushing past Hosea who looked like he wanted to say something. He could feel guilty about that later. Shutting the door to his room, all Arthur could think about was how tired he was. He fell onto the mattress without bothering to remove anything and was asleep in moments.


	9. Chapter 9

Kieran’s health improved steadily. Thanks to Dr. Ebberhardt’s care, the foundation for recovery had been laid. Ms. Grimshaw at first tried to assume oversight of Kieran’s recuperation but it became clear Arthur had asserted himself in that role. There was no friction between the matriarch and Arthur over this; it left Ms. Grimshaw more time to attend her other duties. But she was bewildered as to why Arthur had done it. Her wonderment was short-lived, however. She’d hovered, invisibly, in that omnipresent way of hers, and came to understand as she watched Arthur care for Kieran. Arthur was methodical and sure, changing dressing and gauze with a gentleness Ms. Grimshaw hadn’t seen from him before. She stood quietly as Arthur gave his focus to sinking the needle of a morphine shot into Kieran’s arm. Kieran winced, and Arthur murmured that they were nearly done. His hands were steady. Ms. Grimshaw walked away with no doubt Kieran would be well looked after. 

On the third day, Kieran reintroduced himself to the herd. Branwen pushed his head into Kieran’s chest and Kieran rubbed behind his ears, emotion and pain lancing through him at the animal’s rough affection. “You miss me, boy?” Branwen swung his head up to consider Kieran with a large, brown eye. Kieran smiled and stroked the horse’s cheek. He forgot the ache of his injuries while he dallied among them, doing his best to keep the horses on his right where he could see them. Kieran spotted Bahira grazing near Baylock and Silver Dollar. He whistled between his teeth as Arthur did to call her, grinning when she perked up her head and trotted over to him, ears swiveled forward.

“You saved me, sweetheart. Thank you.” Bahira sidled up to him and presented her withers expectantly. Kieran let out a short laugh. He petted her, passing his hand over her back and slender shoulders. “I bet you know how pretty y’are.” Kieran was distracted by a distant coughing. He turned his head, having to twist his neck to compensate for a limited field of vision. Arthur had a hand on one of the pillars of the front porch, somewhat doubled over, other hand over his mouth to muffle his hacking. Kieran ran across the lawn and up the path leading to the steps. Arthur couldn’t seem to catch his breath. 

“Arthur?” Kieran rested his hand on Arthur’s shaking back. Arthur just shook his head. Arthur’s coughing redoubled in intensity, the barking, bronchial sound of it alarming Kieran. Finally, Arthur gasped and sucked down a lungful of air, then began to breathe again. “Jesus, Arthur.” Kieran said. “This thing ain’t gettin’ better.” 

“’Sfine.” Arthur straightened, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “It’ll pass.” It was clear he didn’t want to discuss it further. Kieran caught Mary-Beth giving them a worried look as she passed by. 

“What did Dutch say?” Kieran knew Arthur had been to see the gang’s leader to discuss moving the group, since in Arthur’s opinion it was no longer safe to stay after Kieran’s abduction. Arthur’s glare hardened as he stared out at the treeline.

“He says we ain’t leavin’ ‘til this bank job’s done. Says it’ll take years to find another score like this.” Arthur was tense, being careful with his words. Kieran stiffened. That couldn’t be right. Dutch was supposed to be different than Colm. 

“But… t-they know we’re here. They’ll come after us again.” His voice trembled slightly. All this time running just to be attacked at Shady Belle because Dutch refused to see reason? Arthur didn’t look at him. 

“Dutch knows what he’s doin’.” 

“People are gonna die!” Kieran insisted, a little too loudly. Arthur silenced him with a look, then glanced around as if to make sure no one had overheard. 

“We’ll hit it soon. Then we’re gone.” Arthur explained, strangely urgent. Kieran was dumbstruck. Those were not Arthur’s words, he realized. Right now, Kieran was clashing with Dutch. He would’ve felt sorry for Arthur if he weren’t so upset. _Dutch’s bitch._ Kieran balked at the sudden, venomous thought. He knew it wasn’t true. 

“We can’t stay, Arthur. Colm’ll kill us all.” Kieran dropped his voice, pleading. “Maybe if I talk to ‘im-”

“You think I didn’t try?” Arthur growled as he shrugged off the pillar to stand his ground. “There ain’t nothin’ more to be said. He’s as like to shoot you as talk t’you, the mood he’s in.” 

“If we do nothin’, we die.” Kieran stared at Arthur, reading his control, his irritation. They were on the same side, they both wanted to leave. But Dutch had them bickering irrespective of this. Arthur started coughing again. He turned away from Kieran and the tension scattered. 

“There’s no changin’ his mind.” Arthur said quietly after his coughing subsided. Kieran’s stomach dropped, and he again knew the fear of being helpless and hunted. He was angry, unable to understand why Arthur continued to bend to the will of a man who seemingly had no principles. Kieran wanted answers; another part of him wanted to strangle Arthur for being a stubborn fool. From the icy wall of body language Arthur had put up between them, Kieran knew he was done talking. Kieran stalked off before his temper could get the better of him. 

***

“I don’t _get it_.” Kieran threw another rock into the water, watched the ripples disturb its surface. Javier didn’t reply right away. Kieran had been sitting by the stream a little ways from camp, fuming, when Javier came up and asked if he’d mind the company. Kieran had welcomed it, not wanting to be alone and dwelling on angry thoughts. Kieran vented to him, words punctuated by stones chucked into the stream, anger cooling into fear that rested sickly on Kieran’s insides. He was so tired of being afraid. “What makes him so scared o’ Dutch?” 

Javier sat with a leg drawn up to his chest, arm resting on his knee. He’d sat on Kieran’s good side, which Kieran deeply appreciated. “Don’t have to be fear. Arthur’s loyal.” 

Kieran’s mouth twisted bitterly. “He should know better.” 

“Maybe he does. He knows he won’t sway Dutch, but he’s taking care of the rest of us the best he can.” Seeing the question in Kieran’s look, Javier continued. “He’s loyal to his family. Wants to protect them.” Kieran considered this, lowering his gaze to his hands. If Arthur followed his judgement headlong and tried to move against Dutch, there’d be chaos. The gang would be fractured when their unity was the only thing that’d kept them alive. Together, they had the best chance, even exposed as they were. It was a small comfort. 

He almost jumped when Javier lightly touched his forearm. Javier was leaning close, his eyes sincere. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, _cielo_. Not again.” His touch lingered. “I promise.” Kieran didn’t know what to say. He was spared a reply when Javier pulled back and returned to looking out over the water. Kieran laid down in the grass and closed his eye, uncertainty clawing at him. He could only hope Dutch had plans to hit the bank and get them out of here in the next day or two. 

He dozed in the afternoon sunlight, the willingness of his body to rest reminding him he needed it. An unmarked stretch of time passed before he was being shaken awake. “ _¡Despiértate!_ Kieran!” Javier’s voice was an urgent whisper. Kieran tensed immediately. He shot up. Cain was barking, loud and baleful. People were taking notice. Pearson stopped in his tracks, a bag of feed over his shoulder. Arthur paused mid-mount with one foot in the stirrup and looked in the direction Cain was howling. The cur was frightened, as evidenced by the fur standing up along his back. Then, Kieran heard it, and his throat closed with fear: hoofbeats. 

The air in camp changed quicker than a gunshot. People ran for cover, drawing weapons and shouting at each other. Kieran saw Mary-Beth pick up Jack from where they’d been playing and run up the stairs into the house. The hoofbeats were an avalanche of sound, bearing down on them from out of the trees. Fifteen riders? Twenty? Kieran felt Javier pulling at him, yanking him to his feet. _"¡Vamos! Vete ya!"_ Kieran stumbled as Javier pushed him towards the house. Heart pounding, Kieran found his feet and ran as the first shots rang out. He forced himself not to look back. 

He was let in by Tilly. “Help me with this.” She said, grabbing the corner of a heavy table. Together, they dragged it in front of the door and jammed it at an angle under the doorknobs. “Mary-Beth and Jack are upstairs.” She led the way to John and Abigail’s room. Mary-Beth was holding Jack in her lap, his head buried in her shoulder, her fingers carding through his hair. He was shivering. 

“Where Abigail?” Tilly asked, kneeling to join them on the floor by the foot of the bed. Gunfire and shouting could be heard outside. 

“Don’t know.” Mary-Beth answered. Her face was white. 

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Tilly patted Mary-Beth’s arm and waved Kieran down to them. In a lighter tone, she addressed Jack. “It’ll be over soon, Jack, I promise.” Kieran sat on the other side of Mary-Beth, making sure he could see the door. He was restless, unused to being sidelined. Kieran was acutely aware that the fighting had gotten closer even in the short time they’d been in the room. _Arthur._ He willed Arthur to stay alive so he could hug him or punch him at the end of all this. A loud bang - a rifle shot - clapped through the room from just under the window. Jack screamed, the sound thankfully muffled by Mary-Beth’s shirt. “Shush now, you’re safe here.” She soothed. Kieran could see she was frightened too but she hid it well. 

The waiting was agony. Kieran knew how time raced in the heat and roil of a firefight but had forgotten how much he hated waiting one out, the minutes crawling like the push of a slow knife. Several times he tried to distract himself by counting the ringing shots but was thrown off by Tilly breathing or Jack rubbing at his runny nose. Kieran refused to draw his gun out of fear of scaring the boy, but his hand rested heavily on the grip as he stared at the door. He stared for so long his vision started to swim; he blinked, and his sight returned to normal. 

There was another loud shot next to the house, then a buzzing Kieran couldn’t identify. Kieran strained to make it out. A splintering crash and the buzzing - talking - was inside the walls. Kieran’s heart was in his throat: they were inside the house. He looked at Tilly and Mary-Beth in turn. A gleam of steel caught his eye. He chased it and saw Tilly slide a revolver from the folds of her skirt. The intruders spoke again. The words he couldn’t make out, but he’d learned there were two of them. He heard one walking on the lower level, which told him the rest of what he needed to know. Kieran started removing his boots. Tilly threw him a strange look. 

Divested of his boots, Kieran got up and moved quietly as he could to the other side of the room behind the swing of the door. The others were looking at him; he gave them a small smile. The footsteps of the second man were coming up the stairwell. Moving his arm as little as possible, Kieran took his hunting knife and held it blade down, making sure he had a good grip. Once the man reached the second level, he predictably went for the first set of doors. Kieran heard him kick them open and caught the click of a sidearm hammer under the louder sound. “Show yourselves!” He shouted.

Finding no one, the man went to the next room. Also empty. So he began his inevitable walk down the hall towards where they were hiding. It felt like the air had been sucked from the room. Kieran hardly dared to breathe. He spared one last glance at Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Jack. The man stopped on the other side of the door. Kieran’s nails dug into his palm with how tight he was gripping his knife. With a creak of wood and rusted hinges, the door started to open. “Alright, on your feet!” The O’Driscoll ordered, stepping further into the room, oblivious to Kieran lying in wait behind the door. 

Kieran buried his knife in the man’s neck, catching the body with his other arm to halt his fall. Kieran couldn’t entirely stop the dead man’s momentum and winced as his knees hit the floorboards with some force. “Hey, what was that?” The man downstairs shouted. Kieran dropped the body and his gun was in hand. Tilly raised her weapon and they moved together to stand in front of Mary-Beth and Jack. There was running on the lower level, then a gunshot, then silence. 

“Are you alright up there?” Charles called up from the foot of the stairs. 

“We’re fine.” Tilly returned, raising her voice.

“You can come out now. It’s over.” Kieran exhaled heavily, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath. He turned to Mary-Beth. 

“You ‘n Jack should stay here for a minute, so we can… see what it’s like.” Mary-Beth nodded in agreement, her hand on Jack’s shoulder. 

Kieran put his boots back on and heard Tilly go down the stairs and out of the house. “I’ll find your mama, Jack, then I’ll be back.” Jack looked up at him, looking fearful and small sitting huddled next to Mary-Beth on the bed. Kieran met up with Charles downstairs, who was carrying away the body of the man he shot. “We lose anyone?” Charles nodded towards the steps of the back porch. Kieran’s heart lurched but he forced himself to look. Bill had been shot in the back and was lying motionless in the tall grass. Kieran felt selfish at the intense relief that came when he saw it wasn’t Arthur. 

He made his way around the side of the house, stepping around and over the bodies of the dead. The front yard was an unsurprising mess, corpses and debris littered haphazardly about. Dutch was helping Javier carry a body to the edge of the pier, and Lenny and Hosea were sat on the edge of the dried-up fountain, heads bent together in inaudible conversation. There was movement on the edge of Kieran’s vision. When he turned towards it, he saw Arthur and Sadie walking back to the house from the fields. Kieran’s knees went weak with relief. 

“Hey, Micah,” Kieran called, spying the man walking by. “You seen Abigail anywhere?” Micah’s face was streaked with dirt; he seemed exhausted. 

“There.” Micah said, pointing towards the wagons before turning and walking off. Bemused, Kieran hurried to the wagons, where Ms. Grimshaw was kneeling over something hidden from view by crates. When he got closer, he was horrified to see Abigail facedown in a pool of blood. Ms. Grimshaw touched her cheek, seeming far away. Her eyes met his; tears were running down her cheeks. She wiped them away and breathed in shakily. 

“Help me with her, before John sees.” Kieran, stunned into silence, knelt and helped turn Abigail’s body onto her back. Ms. Grimshaw put two fingers to Abigail’s neck and waited, motionless. Suddenly she snapped her head up. “She’s alive.” Ms. Grimshaw focused on Abigail’s face and smacked her across her cheek. A tense moment. Abigail’s eyelids fluttered and she shifted her arms weakly. 

“My leg…” Her voice was broken and soft and instantly spurred Ms. Grimshaw into action. Without ceremony she threw up Abigail’s skirts. Kieran looked away. 

“My Lord. Kieran, your knife.” He passed it to her and heard the tearing of fabric. Arthur wandered over, dirty and sweaty and looking like the most goddamn beautiful thing Kieran had ever seen. Arthur nodded to him. Kieran nodded back. When Arthur came around the crates, he too turned away to preserve Abigail’s modesty. “Mr. Morgan, how soon can you be ready to ride?” Ms. Grimshaw’s composure had returned and her voice was sharp. 

“Right now.” Kieran remembered Bahira being saddled up just before the O’Driscolls came. 

“Good. This woman needs a doctor.” Abigail was lifted to her feet, supported on either side by Kieran and Ms. Grimshaw. Arthur whistled for Bahira. Abigail's face was deathly pale, her breath coming shallow. Kieran helped Abigail climb onto Bahira’s back. Kieran noticed absently how delicate her fingers looked clinging to Arthur’s jacket. 

“What’s goin’ on?” John’s voice cut the air, high and panicked. He ran up to them but Bahira was already moving.

“Stay with your son!” Arthur yelled back. He spurred Bahira into a canter, then a gallop once he’d cleared the property line. John’s expression of helpless confusion remained as he watched them disappear into the falling twilight. 

***

Kieran and the others worked ceaselessly clearing bodies and piling up gear that could either be sold or used. Lenny and Javier had swept the perimeter and found Karen dead on her patrol route; she and Bill were buried by the Reverend. Kieran thought the deaths would sink in once everything stopped moving so quickly. Some of the horses were missing; Branwen was alright, though. Kieran sat on the steps, sore all over - when was the last time he’d sat down? Night had come hours ago and there was still no sign of Arthur and Abigail. John, understandably distraught, had gone through at least a pack of cigarettes in the meantime. 

Kieran watched him pace on the edge of the pool of light cast by the fire. Kieran could sympathize with his distress, but in his mind it was no excuse for blowing off your son like he’d seen John do earlier. Jack had eventually given up trying to seek comfort from John and had taken refuge with Hosea; Kieran could hear the man’s voice as he read a story to Jack inside the house. Kieran wondered if he’d ever understand John. Even though they’d grown up together, he was so different from Arthur. Kieran closed his eye, momentarily indulging his weariness. 

The sound of an approaching horse called him back. He saw Arthur and Abigail on Bahira, taking shape as they came into the light. John was there in an instant, gentle as he lifted Abigail off the horse. She put an arm around him. Kieran passed them on his way to greet Arthur. As he got closer, Kieran knew something was wrong. Arthur didn’t acknowledge he was there as Kieran came up beside him, not reacting when Kieran put a tentative hand on his shoulder. Kieran helped him take care of Bahira; they removed her tack and rubbed her down in silence. After, Arthur made for the small, slightly isolated campfire on the east side of the lawn. Kieran followed, worry brewing deep in his chest. Something was wrong. 

For half an hour, Kieran sat with Arthur by the fireside, no words passing between them. Their hands were laced together. Every so often, Arthur would squeeze his hand, and Kieran would squeeze back. Patience came naturally to Kieran. He felt oddly peaceful, allowing for the knowledge that Arthur would talk to him when he was ready. Kieran drank in the quiet pops of the fire, the cold wind at his back, the roughness of Arthur’s hand in his. He wasn’t sure if he’d need to ground himself in these sensations in order to weather whatever it was that had cut Arthur to his core.

It came without preamble. “I got TB.” Nothing around them changed. The stars did not fall from the sky. The earth did not open to swallow them up. Life continued on, but the color of the moments after Arthur said those words would forever stain the time that came after for Kieran. He gripped Arthur’s hand. He loved this man. He loved Arthur more with each day that passed, and that was all that mattered. That was all that mattered.


End file.
